Breaking Down
by Rachyrach22
Summary: Brittany and Santana are Christmas shopping and get attacked by a mugger. Brittany makes no attempt to hide her fear and nightmares afterward, meanwhile, Santana keeps it all bottled in…or so Brittany thinks. Established Brittana
1. Chapter 1

So here we are, at the crappiest mall of all time, Christmas shopping. Britt convinced me to escort her to purchase a few last minute gifts. She is clinging to my hand and using her other to pet the kittens in the pet store while I watch the proverbial clown car of uggos, fatties and dirtballs who inhabit our shithole town meander though the mall. It's at that moment I grin, realizing I'm holding hands with the sexiest person in the mall, hell, in all of Lima probably.  
>Still, there's something romantic about this place at Christmas time…the decorations and carolers always get Brittany excited like a little child. She has way more passion for the holiday than I do; most Christmases in the Lopez house are spent fighting for the entire day until dinner is served. Honestly, the only thing I'm looking forward to this Christmas is giving Brittany the gift I bought her ten minutes a go while she was in the bathroom. It was hard to hide the silver diamond studded heart pendant in the pocket of my black pea coat…when her hand brushed against it on the bench when we were sharing our ice cream she asked me what the block in my pocket was. I told her it was my garage door opener. She nodded acceptingly and kept lapping at the ice cream. I don't even have a garage.<br>"San, isn't this one cute?" she says, snapping me out of my thoughts.  
>"Yeah, well they're kittens. They're all cute," I reply.<br>"I really like this white one. I want to buy him,"  
>"Your mom will freak out, Britt,"<br>"But he's so cute,"  
>"You still have Lord Tubbington…won't he be just a little upset?"<br>"Serves him right for going through my things," she replied. I love the side of Brittany that had never come in contact with reality. The side that made her think things like unicorns were real and her cat was reading her diary. It made her seem so innocent compared to the rest of us at school.  
>"Come on, Brit. We better get going if we want time for sweet lady kisses before I drop you off,"<br>"Bye, buddy. Santa will find you a good home, I promise," she whispers to the kitten before we shuffle toward the door.

I see him before Brittany does. She's trying to catch snowflakes on her tongue as we walk hand in hand to my car. There's a man walking toward us quickly with his hood up. I try to tell myself he's just cold and in a hurry. It's dark and I can't see his face very well. I tighten my grip on Brittany and try to pull her to my car quicker. He walks up to us. I swallow hard.  
>"Hi," Brittany says sweetly.<br>"Give me your bags," he grumbles.  
>"But I bought these things…they're for my family," she replies. He pulls out a knife slowly, but purposefully. Brittany's expression turns from confusion to fear instantly.<br>"Look, take what you want, but don't hurt her, okay?" I plead.  
>"Turn around, lean up against that car. Hands on your head," he directs me, pulling the knife away from where it dangled inches away from Brittany's abdomen and pointing it at my throat.<br>"Okay…okay…" I reply, putting my bags down in front of him and turning around. My hands tremble uncontrollably as I put them on top of my head, praying for my life. I can feel his breath on my neck. He smells of stale cigarettes and coffee. I pray he won't find the necklace I bought for Brittany in my pocket. He holds the cold steel of the knife against the back of my neck and just as quickly pulls it away. I feel like I'm going to vomit.  
>"Jewelry," I hear him say, farther away now. Brittany is sobbing behind me as he strips her wardrobe for parts.<br>"Why are you doing this?" she cries.  
>"Brit, shh. Just do what he says, okay?" I beg her.<br>"Better listen to her, blondie," he says, and I hear fabric tear. I turn my head subtly, seeing that he ripped Brittany's favorite scarf in anger. His eyes catch me watching him and I turn quickly, hoping he won't take it out on Brittany. I hear his footsteps approaching me.  
>"Please leave us alone…just take our stuff, we won't tell. Please,"<br>He says nothing, but grabs me by my hair and pulls my head back against his chest. He holds the knife against my cheek. My breath is trapped in my throat, and Brittany is hysterical behind me. I want nothing but to protect her.  
>"Do you think this is a joke?" he asks, his hot breath and rancid saliva splattering my ear. I nod my head from side to side, unable to speak at. He uses one hand to keep the knife's pressure on me, and the other to start taking out my earrings.<br>"Empty your pockets," he says. I am too terrified to move. He uses his now free hand to grab my head again and slams me face first into the rear window of the car I've been leaning against. I feel my nose break instantly. Before I can even shake it off, he knees me in the back. I drop to my knees, completely winded.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Santana!" Brittany shouts behind me. Blood from my nose drips onto the thin coating of snow in the parking lot. He maneuvers himself over top of me, plunging his hands into my pockets. He pulls out my cell phone…my money…Brittany's necklace. I'm too tired to fight. He stands up and stomps on  
>my back, forcing me flat onto the ground. I hear him shuffle back towards Britt.<br>"Britt, run," I say as loudly as I can. I realize it was hardly a whisper because neither of them look down at me. He grabs Brittany by the collar of her jacket and pulls her so their faces are almost touching. She's trembling…she's crying…I can't move.  
>"Brittany…run…" I try again, but to no avail. He closes the slight gap between them, latching his lips onto hers. I can hear her whimper as he fights for access into her mouth. I hear voices in the distance. He releases Brittany quickly, and she falls to the ground with a thud. He picks up our bags and runs quickly into the night. Brittany props herself up and crawls over to me.<br>"San…San, can you hear me? Are you okay? Gosh you're bleeding bad…" her voice cracks as she looks over my injuries.  
>"I'm sorry…" I whisper. She flips me over on my back and pulls what's left of the tattered scarf off her neck. She gently lays my head in her lap and starts dabbing the blood off my face with the baby blue fabric.<br>"I'm sorry," I repeat.  
>"Be quiet," she orders me, as she continues gently cleaning me off. The voices I heard get closer. They must see us, must see the blood stains in the snow, because they hurry toward us.<br>"Are you girls okay?" the older woman asks.  
>"We just got mugged. She's hurt pretty bad," Brittany tells her.<br>"Poor things…I'll call the police," the lady replies. Britt finishes wiping the blood away and uses both arms to cradle my head.  
>"It'll be okay now, San. Help is coming," she whispers, rocking me back and forth. I can hear in her voice she's still crying.<br>"I'm sorry…sorry I couldn't stop him," I choke out.  
>"It's not your fault. You protected me…you're the one laying here bleeding. I'm okay," she replies. I can tell she isn't.<br>Britt holds me there for a while in silence until I see the blue and red lights flashing toward us. It isn't like the movies you see where the cops pull out and start screaming things. We are all silent. Brittany lays my head down gently and stands. One of the officers starts asking her questions. The other one kneels next to me.  
>"Tell me what hurts, kid," he says gently.<br>"My nose…and…my back…" I respond weakly.  
>"Can you stand?" he asks. It takes all my strength, but I sit up. He takes both of my hands and pulls me up onto my feet.<br>"Come sit in the car. We're going to get you to the hospital, okay?" he supports me, seeing I'm disoriented. I sit in the back of the squad car, and he wraps a blanket around me. They wrap a similar one around Brittany and bring her over to the car. She gets in next to me and snuggles close.  
>"You have to tell the cops what happened," she whispers to me. My brain is totally foggy. The cold has spread to my fingers and toes. I just want to be warm. I just want the stabbing pain in my back to go away. I want to know when we wake up tomorrow; we'll be able to move on.<br>The police drive us to the hospital, and pour Brittany some hot chocolate. The cops stay with her in the waiting room to ask her more questions. A nurse brings over a wheel chair and helps me lower into it. She takes my blood pressure, my temperature and checks my pulse. She asks me my name. I lift my head but I can't find the strength to respond.  
>"Her name is Santana," I hear Britt say.<br>"Okay, Santana. Let's go get you fixed up, okay?" she says. I lift my head up just enough to look at Brittany. She blows me a kiss reassuringly, but it doesn't give me that tingly feeling in my toes like it usually does. Her beautiful smile is hid behind tear stained cheeks and pained eyes. I hate that she had to go through this.  
>The nurse wheels me into what looks like a storage space, there's about thirty pairs of crutches hanging on the walls offset by a small gurney and stool. She pulls the curtain closed and helps me up onto the gurney.<br>"I need you to get undressed, honey," she says. My eyes are already swelling shut from my broken nose. I haven't seen it, but I'm sure I look hideous. She starts unbuttoning my coat and slides it back off my arms slowly.  
>"I have to ask some questions that may be hard to answer, okay? Just take your time," she advises as I pull my polo shirt over my head.<br>"Did he rape you?" she continues.  
>"No…can I leave my bra on?" I reply.<br>"Yes you can. Santana, if he did anything sexual we really need to know. I know it is hard to talk about, but it's important," she pushes.  
>"I swear he didn't. He slammed my face into the car and kicked me in the back. Then he took all our stuff and ran off," I said.<br>"Okay," she walks to the other side of the bed, looking at my back.  
>"On a scale of one to ten, how's the back pain?" she asks, touching the swollen, painful skin there. I wince.<br>"Um, like a 5," I admit. It hurts a little worse, but I don't want to stay in this hospital overnight. I want to make sure Brittany will be able to sleep through the night, even if I don't think I will.  
>"Okay…the doctor will be in shortly. Put this gown on in the meantime, try to relax," she tells me. Before she leaves the room she hooks me up to an IV. Whatever she puts in it feels amazing, and knocks me out instantly.<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

I hear beeping. Where am I? I feel like I got hit by a bus. My eyelids feel too heavy to open, but I smell Brittany's perfume, so I call out to her.  
>"Britt?" I say, half as loudly as I intended.<br>"Yeah, I'm here," she replies.  
>"What's going on?" I ask.<br>"Don't you remember?" she questions. Of course I remember. I'm at the hospital. But that was hours ago.  
>"Why are we still here?" I wonder aloud.<br>"Because they gave you medicine and it made you sleepy. So the doctor said you could crash here over night. I called your parents," she explained. Fuck. That's the last thing I want.  
>"Why'd you do that?" I ask her.<br>"Why wouldn't I do that? You're hurt, they need to know. They said they'd be here soon," she replies. I want out.  
>"No, we aren't staying. This place creeps me out, I want to leave," I say, sitting up and reaching for the IV in my arm. Brittany grabs my hands quickly.<br>"San, calm down. We aren't going anywhere, it's the middle of the night. Go back to sleep," she advises. She looks tired as hell.  
>"What about your parents?" I wonder.<br>"I told them I'm sleeping over with you," she said.  
>"So you didn't tell them what happened?"<br>"I had to. That guy took my purse, my dad's credit card was in there. I just told them I wanted to stay with you," she explained. She's acting confident, but I know her well enough to see through it. Brit and I have been going through the motions for three years now, on then off then on again…we know each other better than we know ourselves. I can see the fear in her crystal blue eyes…the mesmerizing pools usually filled with love and innocence I can tell are replaying every detail of what happened to us. She's biting her nails, a habit I've tried hard to break her of because I know she only does it when she's upset or nervous. I gently pick up the hand that she has resting on my bed and kiss her knuckles, hoping to comfort her.  
>"I think we should talk to somebody. Maybe Ms. Pilsbury can help us," she suggests. I'm not crazy about the idea. The only person in my life I can be open with is Brittany…and I don't even want her to know the things I'm feeling now.<br>"I don't think I want to talk about it, Brit…but if you want to go that's cool," I reply, trying to be supportive. I feel like the biggest loser in the world. I've always considered myself a tough person, I say what's on my mind and do what I want. Tonight, when I should have been kicking that guy's ass, I stood frozen in fear. I hate myself for that.  
>"You really don't want to come with me?" she asks, looking disappointed.<br>"I'll go…if you want me to," I agree. At least if I go I'll get to see if she thinks I'm a big wuss too.  
>"Thanks San. I love you," she says and leans down on my chest, wrapping me in an awkward hug.<br>"I love you too. I'm really sorry for all this," I say, stroking her golden hair. I don't know what shampoo she uses…but it's my favorite smell in the entire world. Before she can respond, my parents burst into the room.  
>"Good grief, are you okay? My mother blurts out. My father is silent, like always, submissive to my mother and her scenes.<br>"Ma, I'm fine. Can you sign me out of here please?" I beg.  
>"What did he do? What did he take from you?" she ignores me and continues her interrogation.<br>"He just broke my nose, I'm fine. He took everything," I respond, annoyed already. I wish Brit wouldn't have called them.  
>"This is why you don't go out on school nights. Get dressed, we're going home," she says, plopping my pile of clothes on top of me.<br>"Mom, are you seriously blaming me for this?" I ask, shocked.  
>"If you would've been home studying, this wouldn't have happened,"<br>"You know what mom? Why don't you redirect that anger at your own mother where it belongs?" I hiss at her, furious. She turns toward me and slaps my already swollen face.  
>"Maria…" my father says weakly.<br>"Oh good argument dad! Why don't you guys just get out of here? This is why I didn't want you here. Go crack yourself another drink mom. I'm going to Brittany's house,"  
>"No, you're coming home," my mother says sternly.<br>"Why so you can punish me for what I said? So dad can stare silently why you drunkenly knock me from room to room? No thanks," I respond. Brittany is in the far corner of the room, starting to tear up.  
>"Get out of here," I repeat. My mother lifts her hands in surrender and walks out the door. My father looks torn for a moment, but eventually follows my mother's lead. I sigh in relief and frustration.<br>"I'm sorry Britt. But that's why I didn't want them to know. They blame me for everything,"  
>"I can't believe they left you here," she announces.<br>"Yeah, well. I don't care," I reply, reaching for the button on the bed to call a nurse.  
>"What are you doing?" Brittany wonders.<br>"Getting out of here," I respond.

The walk back to Brittany's house is long, cold and painful. She opens the front door with a key hid under the mat and I head straight for the couch, completely exhausted.  
>"No, San, come on let's get you up to my room," she whispers, trying not to wake her parents.<br>"I can't get up those steps," I admit. She nods and bends down to take my shoes off. I'm already half asleep as she sheds my outer layers of clothing and replaces them with a pair of her own pajamas. She places a gentle kiss on my forehead and I hear her settle into the recliner next to me. She turns on the TV, knowing the narcotics still in my system will keep my deep asleep, and settles on the Lion King, her favorite childhood movie, before I am completely unconscious.

I wake up to the smell of coffee. My face hurts like hell. Brittany isn't in the recliner.  
>"Brit?" I call out sleepily. I hear voices in the kitchen. Whatever Brit's mom is making smells awesome, so I head in for a closer look.<br>"Santana, sweetie…how are you feeling?" Mrs. Pierce asks, wrapping me in a tight hug. I wish my mother had this compassion.  
>"I'm okay. What smells so good?" I ask.<br>"Brittany and I were going to surprise you with breakfast. You hungry?" she asks.  
>"Yeah, actually," I reply, watching Brittany try to stir pancake mix. She looks totally adorable in her green apron.<br>"You okay?" I whisper gently to her, leaning in and placing a soft kiss on her perfect lips.  
>"I am now," she smiled.<br>"You didn't sleep, did you?" I ask, scoping out her face. She looks exhausted.  
>"No…I couldn't," she admits. I take the spoon out of her hand and set it on the counter, wrapping her body in my arms.<br>"As soon as Christmas break is over we'll go talk to Ms. Pilsbury," I assure her. Seeing her hurt this way makes me furious. I need to do something physical.  
>"Sit, girls, I'll finish," mama Pierce directs us.<br>"Britt, I have to tell you something," I say.  
>"What?" she questions, twirling her blonde hair around her finger curiously.<br>"I had your Christmas present in my pocket last night. And he took it. And since he took all my money…I can't get you anything," I admit.  
>"That's okay," she says sweetly.<br>"So don't get me anything, okay?" I instruct her, playing with her fingers across the table.  
>"I made you a present, San," she tells me. I can't help but smile. Brittany reminds me of what Christmas is supposed to be, what I wish it could've been for me growing up. I kiss her hand and hold it to my cheek.<br>"I love you," I whisper to her.  
>"Me too," she replies.<br>"Eat up girls!" Brit's mom hollers, and we share a nice Christmas Eve breakfast together, trying desperately to feel normal again.

It's Christmas day. I came home from Brittany's last night and haven't left my room since. The pain meds are totally out of my system and I'm in agony. I don't want her to see me like this. My parents and I are ignoring each other. I wonder how Brittany's doing.  
>She made me a mix CD for Christmas. She knows I'm a sucker for sappy things like that. I've been listening to it all day. Next to my stereo is a picture of Brit and I at Cedar Point, the amusement park near our town, in a frame. I focus hard on the picture. We went there last summer for Britt's birthday. We both look happy.<br>I can't help but think things were so much easier then, without this experience on my shoulders. How am I supposed to be strong for Brittany when I'm filled with rage and anger inside? I need to find a way to get it out of myself.

*thanks everyone for the kind reviews so far. this is a transition chapter, things will get more angsty and interesting from here.


	4. Chapter 4

My alarm buzzes annoyingly, reminding me that Christmas vacation is over. I am not looking forward to this day. A day of questioning and sympathetic nods and hugs is all it's bound to be. No doubt everyone has heard by now.  
>Brit and I rung in the New Year together a few nights back. As we toasted each other with the bubbly grape juice her mom bought us, we made a promise to move on from this, no matter what it took. Brit called it our New Years "Revolution". I found it too cute to correct her.<br>Since I have yet to pick up my car from the mall parking lot, Brit is picking me up today. I can't find the strength to go back to that place yet. I have barely slept in the last week and I know Brittany hasn't either. I'm dreading going to see our nut job counselor today but hopefully it will help Brittany to talk about it. My mom pounds on my door to make sure I'm awake. This is her usual routine; we've always had a difficult relationship. We don't speak much normally, but since the incident at the hospital we haven't spoken at all. I don't reply and she doesn't expect me to.  
>I settle on a pair of ripped jeans and a long sleeve striped polo. I'm not in the mood to make any fashion statements today, I'll be lucky just to get through an entire school day at this point. I'm filled with rage. Every time I close my eyes I hear Brittany's sobs and my mind replays the terror in her eyes as I stood there and did nothing to protect her. I feel like I could rip someone apart.<br>I hear the horn of Brit's Mazda blare in the driveway. Her parents bought it for her on the condition she kept her grades up. She has straight D's, but they don't have the heart to take it from her. She tries her best.  
>I peek through the window and signal to her that I'll be right down. I pull my hair into a tight ponytail and brush my teeth quickly. I take the steps two at a time and grab my bag which has been by the front door since break started. Brit waves to me as I jog to her car.<br>"Hey babe," I say as I get in, leaning over for a good morning kiss.  
>"Hi," she replies, smoothing her purple and black plaid skirt before returning her hands to the steering wheel. Her outfit is complete with black stockings and a white button down top, offset with a black headband. She looks smoking hot. She backs out of the driveway, nearly taking out our mailbox like she always does, and we head to school.<p>

Brit and I explain our situation and get excused from first period. She's shaking nervously as we wait for Ms. Pilsbury. I put my hand on her knee to calm her down. She looks up and smiles at me.  
>"It'll be okay," I whisper. She leans over and rests her head on my shoulder, her intoxicating scent taking me to a fantasy world. I get angrier as I stare at the objects on Ms. Pilsbury's desk, all perfectly straight and in their place. It's glorious and pisses me off at the same time. I want to knock it all on the floor. I want to destroy something beautiful.<br>"Hey girls, how was break?" she enters, so chipper I could vomit. Brittany glances at me and gains the understanding that I really don't want to talk. She clears her throat.  
>"There's something that happened that we really want to talk to you about," Brittany announces. She sits and folds her hands together, listening intently.<br>"We got mugged at the mall," she says. It's the first time either of us has said it aloud since that night, and the words cut right through me. Ms. Pilsbury looks at me, suddenly fully aware of where the bruises on my face are from.  
>"Are you two okay?" she finally chokes out, her bug eyes drilling a hole through me. Brit's already crying. I just sigh and cross my arms.<br>"It was really scary. And Santana got really hurt and had to go to the hospital," she cries. I close my eyes in frustration, preparing for the onslaught of questions headed my way.  
>"How are you feeling, Santana?" she asks.<br>"I'm fine," I grumble.  
>"I know it must be a hard thing to go through. Have you talked to anyone besides me?" she asks.<br>"No, and I'm not going to, either. I've always dealt with my own shit and this is no different. I'm fine. I'm here for Brittany," I snap.  
>"Santana, I understand your need to feel independent, but if you're feeling scared or upset or angry you need to address it. If not with me then maybe your other friends…somebody who can give you an outside perspective or help you get your mind off it all together,"<br>"Wow that's great advice…lean on friends…I'm so glad I came. Where'd you get your psychology degree, the University of Mail- in orders?" I quip at her.  
>"Santana!" Brittany shouts, getting frustrated with me.<br>"Brit, I'm sorry but I can't do this. I've never been able to talk about my feelings to anyone but you, and this isn't going to change me. I love you, but I'm sorry I cannot talk about this,"  
>"Fine but you don't have to be so mean, Ms. Pilsbury is just trying to help," she scolds me.<br>"Fair enough, can I go back to class?"  
>"Go ahead Santana, I'm here if you change your mind," she reminds me and hands me a pamphlet titled "Coping with Violent Crimes" I shove it in my back pack and lean next to Brittany.<br>"Are we okay? I ask.  
>"Yes but I'm staying here and talking," she explains. I nod and kiss her on the cheek. I can tell she's irritated but she never stays mad at me long so I shrug it off.<p>

I head to my locker to grab a few books before I head back to class. I see Quinn up ahead coming straight toward me. She catches my gaze and I break it instantly, already sick of explaining what's left of my bruises to people.  
>"Yo bitch, why weren't you and Brit at my New Year's party?" she asks nudging into me. The physical contact sends a fiery rage through my body.<br>"Don't touch me," I reply bitterly, clenching my fists.  
>"Woah, what's your problem?" she asks, taken aback.<br>"Nothing…sorry…I don't want to talk about it,"  
>"Okay, cool…just chill okay? What happened to your face?" she asks.<br>"Still don't want to talk about it. Had a rough break. Sorry we missed the party, we just laid low that night," I explain, opening my locker. She leans against the lockers next to me and shakes her head, grinning.  
>"You missed quite a night. Everybody hooked up with someone," she says.<br>"Well I would've just ended up hooking up with Brit, so what did I miss really?" I ask.  
>"You're weird today," she says raising an eyebrow at me.<br>"Whatever," I mumble, slamming my locker shut.  
>"Did I do something to you? God," she whines.<br>"No it's not you, okay? Just drop it, please," I beg her.  
>"Fine, whatever," she groans and walks away. That's it. I need to get out of here. I hurl my books at the row of lockers and sprint for the door.<br>"Hey! Get back here!" I hear coach Sylvester yell. But it's too late; I'm gone.


	5. Chapter 5

I feel alive for the first time in days. I keep my legs pumping…faster and harder…running through the burning in my lungs. I know Brittany will be upset when she finds out I took off. And coach Sylvester will probably send the cops after me or at least suspend me. And when everyone notices I don't show at glee club, Quinn will no doubt tell them I wigged on her earlier. Brittany will probably skip too to look for me.  
>I run until the Lima Valley Mall comes into my view. It stops me in my tracks. Sure, it's daylight. But it's still the scariest place in the world to me. I feel my car keys in the pocket of my jeans. I don't remember putting them there, and I don't remember why I ran this way. It's time to start moving on, I guess, and this is a good place to start. I walk through the parking lot to the lower back lot where Brittany and I were parked that night. My lungs are seized from the cold air, so every step is a challenge. Every man in a hoodie makes me nervous.<br>There's only a few cars in the back lot, my old black Subaru sitting untouched since I parked it there. They cleaned the snow since then, which I'm thankful for. I remember it being splattered with blood. I stare hard at the spot Brittany and I were attacked. No doubt hundreds of people have walked past it by now, and somehow it has me frozen. It's like watching an instant replay of that night, the images are fresh in my mind, the sounds of Brittany's screams and whimpers give me goose bumps. I slam my fist down on the trunk of my car, effectively adding to the slew of dents it's already sporting. We were so damn close to my car…four damn spots away. If I had walked faster or left earlier or parked by the food court instead of the back lot none of this would've ever happened. I could've spared Brittany all this pain if I had just made better decisions, or at least fought back. This is all my fault.  
>I get into the car and start it. It hesitates from the days of bitter cold weather. Brittany's iPod and baby blue beanie lay in the passenger seat. I pick up the hat as my car warms up and hold it to my face, taking in her scent. She's probably getting ready for study period, which we spend together religiously every day, whether it be in the choir room or the locker room or the auditorium, most times just for an intense make out session. I'm sure she's looking for me. I feel guilty for leaving…for making her deal with this first day back all on her own. But something about Quinn's comments made me feel so vulnerable, like everyone could see what I was thinking. I hate her now for making me leave my girlfriend. I hate her for showing me how weak I really am.<br>I drive around town for what seems like hours, trying to clear my head, trying to find some answers. I end up where I always do when I need to think; the gym.  
>Brittany and I signed up for gym memberships together about a year ago to stay in shape for cheering, but since we quit the squad she hasn't had much interest. She doesn't really need it either, her body has always been fierce. I still don't know where she learned to dance the way she does.<br>I change into the workout clothes I keep in my trunk and head straight for the punching bag. Usually I just run on the treadmill and do a few crunches, but the anger boiling up in me is telling me I need to hit something. I put my fists up and let it simmer to the surface, my breathing already getting heavier before I even make a move.  
>"You may want to put some gloves on," a voice approached me, stopping me in my tracks. I turn toward it, not dropping my fists. I open my mouth to reply but when I see her, no words come out. She's tall, tan and perfectly toned. She's sporting a green sports bra and track pants, her hair tied and hidden behind a sweated bandana.<br>"Um…I'm good," I choke out, still looking at her. Stop it! I have a girlfriend…a perfect girlfriend at that. I just wish I had a body like this girl. I turn my attention away from her and take a ferocious swing at the bag, doubling over in pain as soon as it makes impact.  
>"New at this?" she laughs.<br>"Yeah well don't get me wrong, I can hold my own in a fight, this thing just must be filled with fucking rocks," I respond, grinding my teeth from the pain. She kneels next to me, handing me the padded fingerless gloves she was just wearing.  
>"How about I give you a few pointers?" she offers. I slide the gloves onto my hands and stand back up facing the bag. She takes both my arms and positions them so my right fist is slightly above my left, and takes her place behind the bag, holding it from the sides.<br>"Now give me a right," she says. I hurl my right fist forward, colliding with the bag.  
>"I hardly felt that. More," she demands. Who is this chick? I slam my fist into the bag harder.<br>"Come on don't be a pussy," she says, and my mind goes blank with white hot rage. I clench my jaw and wail on the bag as hard as I can with both hands until she loses her balance.  
>"Woah, woah okay! That's better! What the hell set you off?" she asks.<br>"Don't call me a pussy," I grumble, wiping the sweat off my forehead with my forearm.  
>"The only reason you would get so mad about me calling you one is you actually believe you are one. So what are you running from?" she asks, leaning back on her elbows. The fury comes back tenfold, and I launch down at her, pulling her up by the straps of her sports bra.<br>"Listen, butch, I don't need you to teach me how to fight or any of your psycho babble bullshit okay? I've got enough crap on my plate right now," I hiss at her. She grabs my arms and thrusts her knees into my stomach, effectively flipping me over her and onto my back. The impact sucks the breath right out of me. As I lay there winded, she crawls over and leans on top of me.  
>"Well if you don't need any pointers than maybe you and I should fight. Meet me at the old toy factory downtown tonight at eight. Don't bring anybody with you," she warns me. She pulls her gloves off my hands and leaves me there, wondering what the hell just happened. I know she's right...I freaked because the things she said are things I think about myself, and even worse, things I'm sure Brittany now thinks about me too.<br>I sit up, dizzy and still catching my breath. The sane part of me is telling me this is stupid, that Brittany would never be okay with violence and that I should just go see her when she gets out of school and act like this never happened. But the part of my brain buzzing off this adrenaline high tells me this is just what I've been waiting for, an opportunity to remind myself I'm not a wuss and that I can fight to survive and protect the girl I love.


	6. Chapter 6

I feel guilty for leaving Brittany at school today. It's already two in the afternoon so I decide to go wait in the parking lot with Brittany's favorite treat, a strawberry sundae with gummy bears. We always buy each other ice cream as a peace offering when we fight, and honestly I feel a fight coming on.  
>The bitter cold weather keeps the ice cream from melting while I wait for her. I can't help but think of the girl from the gym. I want to fight her, but I know Brittany would never want me to. How can I convince her that I need this?<br>I hear the bell ring and know that any minute, my sweetie will make her way down the salted concrete stairs and come looking for me.  
>It isn't long before I see her, looking just as beautiful as this morning. I step out of my car, ice cream in hand and walk toward her. She's concentrating hard on the foot prints her boots make in the snow.<br>"Hey Brit Brit," I say gently as I approach her. She looks up, shocked.  
>"Wait, you are here? I've been looking for you all day," she said.<br>"I'm an idiot, babe. I left and I just realized how stupid it was of me. I shouldn't have left you here alone to deal with everyone. I, uh…brought you your favorite ice cream," I offer, hoping she isn't mad.  
>"Gummy bears?" is all she says, piercing my insecurities with her glacier blue eyes.<br>"Extra gummy bears, babe," I smile.  
>"I don't care that you left; I know you're a lot more hurt than you're talking to me about. I just wish you could," she explains. I grin as I watch her dig into the ice cream…she's the only person I know who can inhale it in the winter time. I don't respond to her previous comment, I just step closer and wrap her into my arms.<br>"You're all I need to be okay," I whisper against her neck. I want to believe it, but the urge to lash out physically still boils inside me. I plant meaningful kisses along Brittany's neck, hoping that if I get her revved up, she can provide me with the physical release I'm looking for so I don't have to get my ass kicked.  
>"What are you doing?" she asks, feigning a lack of interest. I can hear it in her voice, though, she's getting turned on.<br>"Come on, let's go…" I whisper, finding it hard to pull my lips off her skin.  
>"Where?" she asks breathlessly.<br>"Your bed, my bed, the back seat, I don't care. I wants on your bod and I wants on it now," I reply taking her hand and pulling her toward my car. This is just the kind of distraction I could get used to.

We choose my house, only because it is closer and we both are ready to explode. Brit rubs my leg the whole drive there, making my focus on the roads slim to none. I knew the neck kisses would work, it's always been my secret weapon for getting Brittany in the mood. I'm sure she knows I keep that tidbit in my back pocket, because she has a few tricks up her sleeve as well.  
>I park my car sloppily in the driveway and neither of us hesitate to bolt to the front door. I jumble through my mess of keys looking for the one to open the front door.<br>"What's taking so long?" Brit groans from behind me, her hands tightly gripped onto my shoulders and her lips planting soft, needy kisses into my back. My anxious hands are shaky and it takes me a few times to thrust the key into the lock and heave the door open. Once we're inside, I toss Brittany playfully against the door, effectively closing it. Without skipping a step I latch myself onto her succulent lips. God, I love these lips. She groans into our kiss as my one hand rests on her hip and the other becomes entangled in her hair. Both her hands rest in the back pockets of my jeans. She tastes like strawberries.  
>After a few seconds of sloppy, passionate kissing I move my mouth down to her neck once more. She inhales sharply and her grip on my ass tightens as I run my tongue along the sweet skin. She moans.<br>"San…" she whispers. I continue nipping at her neck, moving down to her collar bone and placing gentle kisses there. Her hips are starting to gyrate uncontrollably. I love that she gets this hot for me. I raise my head back up to her eye level where I see that hers are closed. I cup her chin in my hand, forcing her to look at me.  
>"Bed?" I say hopefully, knowing full well that's where we're headed. She nods and allows me to pull her in the direction of my bedroom.<br>I burst through the door and slam it closed once Brittany steps through behind me. I walk over to my stereo to turn on some mood music. I settle on the CD Britt made me for Christmas and push play. When I turn around, she's propped up on my bed by her elbows. Her white shirt is unbuttoned and draped over her shoulders, revealing her perfect set of breasts concealed in a lacy lilac bra. God, how did I get such a hot girlfriend?  
>"Come here," she groans seductively, sending my lust into overdrive.<br>"You're so hot," I tell her, leaning over her, pressing our foreheads together and running my finger along her exposed stomach.  
>"Stop talking," she whispers, and it throws me for a second. Usually that's something I say…it seems like every thought in Brittany's head comes rushing out of her mouth when I'm trying to get busy. She grabs fistfuls of my hair in each of her hands and pulls me down for a ferocious kiss. Brittany's usually not this forceful when we fool around, but I have to admit it's turning me the hell on.<br>Craving dominance I deepen the kiss, pulling Brit's hands away from my hair and pinning her arms down to the mattress. I leave a path of gentle kisses along her jaw and up her cheek, pausing at her sweet spot. I let my breath caress her ear, causing her to wiggle underneath me. I tease her like this, knowing full well what she wants me to do.  
>"San…" she gasps, and that's all I need. I tickle her ear with my tongue and she digs her nails into my back. I groan in pain as her tight grip tears through the still bruised skin.<br>"Oh no, San I'm sorry! I forgot about your back! I'm sorry," she cries out. I use the pain as fuel, and with one swift movement, the clasps on Brittany's bra are undone.  
>"Woah…that was cool," she says. I slide her shirt and bra down her arms and toss them aside, nuzzling my face between her breasts. Her breathing gets faster as I kiss them and take her nipple into my mouth. I move my tongue in a circular pattern, occasionally nibbling gently. Her hips buck up toward me at this. I continue to tease her with my mouth, meanwhile moving my right hand down and starting to undo the buttons on her skirt. I can feel her writhing underneath me, knowing soon I will make all this teasing worth her while. I detach my lips from her glorious breast and inch my way down her body. I can feel the heat rising through her plaid skirt and I grin mischievously at her. I slide it and her underwear down her legs in one quick motion and hurl them across my bedroom. She giggles in anticipation, biting her lip. I drag my nails up and down her inner thighs and lower my head, preparing to work my magic. I lock eyes with her and lick my lips seductively before diving in.<br>I maneuver my jaw quickly, using my surefire combination of tongue and teeth to drive Brittany crazy. She's wiggling uncontrollably under me, her hands tangled in my hair. I know she won't last long, it's been weeks since we've done it and I can feel it built up in her. I pick up the pace, licking, nibbling, sucking furiously. Suddenly it's a competition, me against her body…I need to win to feel alive. Her stomach muscles tighten, telling me she's almost there. Her stocking clad legs are resting on my shoulders as I continue dominating every ounce of control she has. I can feel her shifting her feet, her heels gliding every which direction along my back as she gets close to the edge. I dig deeper.  
>"Santana!" she screams, louder than I think she means to. I slow down drastically, riding out her orgasm with her, lapping up the evidence. She is completely out of breath and my jaw is throbbing. It's over. Victory.<br>I slowly slide up her body and plant a kiss on her forehead, collapsing next to her. Save for my shoes and polo shirt, I'm still fully clothed and I can tell by the look on Brittany's face she won't be awake long enough to reciprocate the workout I just gave her. I feel better, but it's not enough. How do I tell her what I'm feeling inside? How do I tell her I'm craving violence?  
>"Give me a minute," she whispers. Her eyes are already closed.<br>"Don't worry about it. Sleep," I reply, smiling. She snuggles deeper into the pillow and I lean up to retrieve the blanket we kicked away in the heat of the moment. I cover her with it gently and kiss the tip of her nose.  
>"Everything is going to be okay," she whispers to me, half asleep. I smooth her damp hair away from her face and twirl a few strands around my finger. I choose not to respond, worried that every word about to come out of my mouth will be dripping in fear. How can she be so sure when I'm slowly turning to a monster inside? I want to believe her.<br>But for things to be okay, I have to make them okay, starting tonight.


	7. Chapter 7

It's five thirty. I heard my mother come home not long ago. I can smell dinner cooking and I feel instantly hungry. Brittany's still asleep on my bed. I know she hasn't slept much in the past week so it comforts me to see her resting. I wish I could get some sleep. My nights have become filled with trash television and sneaking hand rolled cigarettes and nips of brandy out of my father's study. I'm not scared that he'll catch me; I learned these habits from him after all. He had compensated for his fear of standing up to my mother by being extremely lax with his role in my upbringing, letting me swipe his flask for a quick swig when he dropped me off for school or burning a few stoges on the porch before mom got home from work.  
>My thoughts are interrupted by a vibration on the floor. It's Brittany's cell phone, her mom calling like she always does when Brit isn't home before dark.<br>"Hi Mrs. Pierce," I answer, not wanting to wake Brittany yet.  
>"Santana…hi…where's Brittany?" she asks.<br>"We're at my house. We were watching a movie and she fell asleep. I'm sorry if you were worried,"  
>"Well that's okay dear…it's just ever since the incident…I like her home before dark," she explains, choosing her words carefully to not upset me.<br>"I understand,"  
>"Think you can send her home, honey? Dinner's almost ready. You're more than welcome to join us," she offers. It's nice of her, but no doubt Brit's dad is home by now and he is not my biggest fan, ever since he had to pick Brittany and I up from one of Quinn's parties because we were both too wasted to drive…or walk for that matter. He had always accused me of trying to corrupt his little princess, forgetting full well that his first born, Brittany's older sister Kristen had ended up spending quite a few nights at the Lima Valley Police Department.<br>"Thanks, Mrs. Pierce, but my mom is cooking dinner and she'll freak if I don't eat here,"  
>"Okay dear, well just send Brittany on her way then," she reminds me. I comply with her and shake Brittany awake gently.<br>"Brit Brit…your mom just called. She wants you home for dinner,"  
>"Okay," she mumbles sleepily. I can't help but smile at her raspy voice and bed head. I sit up and walk over to my closet, pulling a hoodie over my torso and stepping into my sneakers. I work my way around the room, picking up Brittany's clothes piece by piece and handing them to her.<br>"Are you coming over for dinner?" she asks me, stepping into her skirt.  
>"Nah, my mom's cooking for once. I better eat here," I reply, wondering how she looks just as sexy putting clothes on as she does taking them off. She finishes getting dressed and uses my brush to smooth out her sex hair so she can get through dinner without interrogation.<br>"I'll just take you home and pick you up in the morning for school," I tell her, remembering that she left her car there. She slips her coat on and checks herself in the mirror.  
>"San, I have hickies all over my neck. What am I gonna do?" she whines. I root through my dresser and pull out some cover up, handing it to her.<br>"Sorry babe," I mumble, watching her try to cover the marks on her skin.  
>"It's okay San but if my dad sees it he'll go crazy!" she reminds me. I shudder at the thought of her father finding the evidence of our afternoon delight tagged along her neck.<p>

I drop Brittany off at home and head downtown to the old factory. There's a few cars in the parking lot, which surprises me. I had told my mother I would be stopping at the library after dropping Brittany off to get some books for a project. Yet here I sit, freezing half to death, willingly putting myself in a situation where I would likely have my ass handed to me. But the more I think about that night, the way the knife felt against my face, the sound of Brittany's terrified whimpers…the more I feel I need to do this…to act out physically just to prove I can. He didn't break me. I can do this.  
>I step out of my car and head toward the building, shoving my fists into the pockets of my hoodie. There's a tall girl standing by the door smoking a cigarette. She has a black eye and nearly everything on her face is pierced.<br>"What are you lookin at?" she growls at me, blowing smoke in my face.  
>"Um…I'm looking for someone. I don't know her name…she's like really built…brown hair…I think she's like a boxer or something," I say, realizing she's less than impressed with me.<br>"What are you like ten?" she chuckles, flicking what's left of her cigarette down at my feet.  
>"Um…seventeen actually. Do you know who I'm talking about?" I try again.<br>"You're looking for Jamie. She's downstairs. Don't get yourself killed, I don't want to be the last person who saw your bitch ass alive," she quips, moving away from the door. I look down at my feet and shuffle past her inside. The place is filthy, having been abandoned for the better part of my childhood. Quinn and I used to sneak here when we were in middle school and break the windows out with rocks, before she got all goody two shoes. Her parents made it a habit of reminding her 'That Lopez girl from the rough side of town is bad news' Whatever.  
>I make my way down the steel staircase and can already hear commotion coming from below. This place smells musty and vaguely of sweat. As my feet hit the bottom floor of the building I'm amazed at what I see.<br>There's girls all resembling the beast I just encountered outside filling the room wall to wall, and they're paired off in twos, pounding the shit out of each other. Some girls are fighting, some are just watching, but they're all pumped up. I can see blood stains on the concrete floor. Some girls are sitting against the wall waiting. Others are hunched in corners, spitting out blood and teeth. Holy shit. What did I get myself into?  
>"You actually showed," Jamie saunters her way toward me. Her fists are tattered and bloody, but her face is untouched. Fuck.<br>"What the hell is this?"  
>"What's it look like, stupid?" she mocks me, cracking her knuckles. I take a few steps backward, reaching for the banister of the stair case.<br>"Backing out? You are a pussy, just like I thought," she says smugly as a slightly less athletic girl stands behind her rubbing her shoulders. She uses the dirty towel the girl hands her to wipe the sweat from her face. My fear turns into rage and her eyes never leave me as I step back in front of her. She has a few inches on me but I manage to bring my face to hers, my fists clenched.  
>"Let's do this," I mumble. She grins wickedly and tosses the towel aside.<br>"Kick her ass, Jamie," the girl behind her cackles and then clears a larger space for us on the floor. I pull my sweatshirt over my head and toss it to the side. I can feel my jaw trembling as I put my fists up. I take a deep breath. Fuck. This is going to hurt.  
>We're standing barely a foot from each other, staring each other down.<br>"Fight!" the towel girl yells suddenly. Jamie wastes no time and lunges toward me with a right hook. I duck away from it and take a few steps back. She looks pissed and steps toward me quickly, sending another right hook my way. This one connects and the burning in my face causes me to stumble. Son of a bitch. I run toward her and she stops me by thrusting her open palm upward into my nose. People start to cheer at the sight of blood.  
>"Give up yet, bitch tits?" she calls me out, high fiving a few people behind her. I wipe the blood off my face and lunge at her from behind. I grab her by her hair and hurl her down to the ground. I use her shock to my advantage and deliver a few swift kicks to her ribs. She shoots up quickly and grabs me by my knees, knocking me onto my back with a thud.<br>"Don't kick! Only pussies kick!" she yells, pinning me down tightly by my throat. Right when I feel like I'm about to pass out from lack of oxygen she lets go and stands up. She paces circles around me.  
>"Get up!" she yells angrily. I shoot up as quickly as I can and try making a run for her again. I duck my head down as I bolt toward her, with the intention of knocking her to the ground. I can't beat her when she's on her feet, she's too damn fast.<br>She holds out an open palm, catching my head and freezing me in the process. I continue pumping my legs, trying to break through the hold she has on me, but she's just too strong. I attempt to connect with a few swings, right and left, but all I come up with is air.  
>"That was cute," she chuckles and grabs me by the hair on either side of my head. She delivers a powerful kick to my stomach, followed quickly by her knee swiftly colliding with the bottom of my chin. With that final blow she releases me and I hit the cold concrete face down. I'm barely conscious but awake enough for the cheers and cackles to ring through my throbbing ears. I glance up and see her high fiving these beasts and being congratulated. She walks over to where my sweatshirt lays on the ground and tosses it over my face.<br>"Now get the fuck out of here…and come back when you can actually fight," she gloats, causing everyone to cheer again. I stand up shakily and turn toward the stairs, getting up them as quickly as I can and outside. While I wait for my car to warm up I check my appearance in the mirror. My nose doesn't look too bad, nothing like the number the mugger did on it. My cheek is starting to swell, though. Shit…what can I tell mom this is from? I see a half full bottle of water on the floor and pick it up. It's half frozen. I hold it to my cheek, and it stings at first making me wince. Think Lopez, think. You've lied your way out of worse before. Just tell her someone reached for the same book as you at the library and started a fight. No, that's stupid. Tell her you stopped at the gas station for an energy drink and it got robbed and the guy punched you out. Yeah right, real believable, Santana. I'll just tell her I wasn't paying attention and smacked myself in the face with the car door. That'll do.  
>My ears are ringing and my brain is throbbing, but I feel more alive than I have in days. My adrenaline is pumping. Most people would call it quits after a public ass whooping like I just got, but somehow I catch myself in the mirror grinning.<br>This is just what I need.


	8. Chapter 8

**Thank you everyone for the kind reviews so far. I really wanted to use this chapter to explore why Santana is so emotionally messed up and why her home life is less than desirable. Hope you enjoy...review :)**  
><strong>PS this chapter contains some mild drug use<strong>

It's almost eight when I pull back into the driveway. My father still isn't home and I'm not shocked. I'm sure he took an extra shift because it would be less aggravating than coming home and dealing with mom. I check my reflection one last time before heading inside. Maybe she's in bed already…yeah right. She'll be perched at the front door waiting to hear every detail of where I was. Unfortunately for her, I learned how to lie from good old dad, who still had a secret bank account and a string of affairs she didn't know about. I don't blame dad for running around, because she's an intolerable drunk. I often think of stashing a few extra moms off to the side.  
>I take a deep breath before I enter the front door and kick off my shoes. I don't see her sitting in the living room where she usually waits to ground me.<br>"Kitchen, Santana. Now," I hear her growl. Damn, so close.  
>"Ma, I'm sorry I was gone so long…I ran into Quinn at the library and we started talking about our project, and Brittany left her back pack in my car so I had to go back to her house," I lied.<br>"I told you to be home for dinner," she replies, rinsing out the glass I know she just gulped her Dewar's out of.  
>"I'm sorry ma," I gulp, waiting for the barrage of spiteful words and drunken blows surely coming my way.<br>"Sit down, I'll heat it up," she replies, putting the class in the strainer and drying her hands with a tattered dish cloth. Is she serious? Normally she'd be wailing on me by now. Her eyes lock with mine then for only a moment and she glances lower at my swollen cheek.  
>"What happened to your face, boo?" she asks so sweetly it nauseates me. What is going on?<br>"Oh, that. I uh…was on the phone when I opened my car door and caught the corner with my cheek. Stupid…wasn't paying attention," I say with a light chuckle, showing her it was no big deal. She nods, half buying it and reaches into the freezer. She walks over to me with a bag of frozen peas and presses it onto my face.  
>"Hold that there for a while," she instructs me, and I sit down. Mom hasn't been this nice to me in years...ever since…<br>"Mom are you okay?" I ask.  
>"Of course, why?"<br>"It's just…usually you and I don't get along so good since…Angela," I start, my voice cracking. Five years ago my older sister Angela was killed in a car accident. She had just graduated high school and was on her way to Ohio State on a full ride for pre med. She was my hero, my best friend. Even though my mother always made it blatantly obvious that Angela was her favorite and I was just an accident, Ang always looked after me. She read the songs and poems I wrote for school and assured me that singing wasn't a waste of my time like mom always said. The day of her funeral I heard my mom telling my dad that Angela was heading places…that it should've been me.  
>"I don't want to talk about that," she replies putting my plate down in front of me. I never told my mother what I heard that day five years ago. I've always wanted to…but to hear those words twice in a lifetime might be too much. I nod acceptingly and dive into my food, my stomach reminding me that I haven't put anything but saltines and a few accidental gulps of toothpaste into it in days. I feel my mom's glare burning through me as I eat and I glance up.<br>"Hungry?" she asks. She's either drank her way past violent and obnoxious and right into a stupor, or something bad is about to happen. Judging the smell on her breath I guess the first, and am grateful for this as I nod and continue eating. I think about asking her where dad is but shrug it off, knowing that may well be the thing that sets her off. She plays with the discarded bag of peas as I finish inhaling my food, hardly taking time to breathe. I finish with one large gulp, and it's then when I take my plate to the sink that I see the empty bottle of scotch sitting there. I turn back to my mom, who now has her head down on the table, most likely sleeping. I shuffle to the fridge and take a few large gulps of milk right out of the carton, a habit I have been pounded on for several times in the past, and wipe the residue from my upper lip.  
>"Ma?" I say, trying to shake her awake. She grumbles but doesn't move much. She's wasted.<br>"Ma, come on…go lay down," I coerce her. After a proverbial tug of war I manage to get her on her feet and help her to the couch. She plops down, eyes closed, too drunk to function. I cover her with a blanket and turn the TV on for her. I hate when she gets like this, but it's better than the hitting. I leave her there to sleep it off and as I head upstairs my back starts to seize in pain. I know mom has Percs hidden somewhere…I remember her constantly leaving work early for "pain" and sitting on the phone for hours with her doctor trying to get them to renew the prescription. She tosses back a few at a time when the booze doesn't take the edge off.  
>I rifle through her medicine cabinet and it's chock full of all the primetime players for chemical dependency…Xanax, Oxys, Vicodin, Percs…ah here they are. I sprinkle two into my palm and look at myself in the mirror. For good measure, I flex my arms, trying to make myself believe I can be tough. Fuck. No wonder that girl kicked my ass. I need some more tone. I'm about as ripped as Hilary Duff. I've always considered myself tough, but Jamie's punches hit like wrecking balls, whereas mine would be about as brutal as a declawed pregnant cat swatting at a fly on a Sunday afternoon. I toss the Percs into my mouth and swallow them dry. Tonight I sleep, tomorrow I start training.<br>As I walk to my room I am taunted by the few pictures my parents leave hanging up. Most of them are of Ang, and I can't help but feel weaker as I stare into her eyes.  
>She'd handle this better than I have. She damn sure would've protected Brit. She always had the answers.<br>But where is she now? Where is she when I have no answers? When I'm putting my body through hell just to feel alive?  
>The pills are working their way through my blood quickly. Her smile is burning through me. She's judging me. She's telling me I'm wrong.<br>"Stop running…stop running…" I hear her voice. A bead of sweat drips down my forehead. My blood is boiling. I'm spinning.  
>"Stop running,"<br>"What do you want from me?" I scream, hurling my fist into the picture. The cheap plastic busts and I drop to my knees in tears.  
>I pick up the wrinkled picture and sob into it. It's then, in this moment as I sit, holding my dead sister to my chest that I realize my mother was right.<br>It should've been me.


	9. Chapter 9

The drive to school was brutal. I'm raging even worse today. I thought about my sister. I thought about the man from the mall. I thought about Jamie.  
>Brittany has another meeting with Ms. Pilsbury today. Myself, I was barely in the door when I heard it. <p>

"Santana Lopez to the office, please,"  
>So here I sit, a splitting headache, with coach Sylvester on my left and Figgins staring me down from across the desk. Coach's eyes are burning a hole through me. She's been pretty rough on me since I left her precious Cheerios last year. Sure, I was good, but I only joined that crap for popularity and to watch Brittany hop around in a skirt. <p>

"I suggest expulsion," she says before I even realize what we're talking about. 

"What?" my head snaps up quickly and I wince in pain. That was stupid. 

"I think that's a little harsh, Sue," Figgins interjects. 

"Not in the slightest. There are rules here," 

"Don't expel me, please, my parents will kill me," I beg. 

"Ms. Lopez, you fled school grounds during class hours, that will not go unpunished," he says. 

"In fact you will be punished to the fullest extent of the law. My law," she growls at me. I'm disgusted with myself at this moment, and pull out my ace in the hole. 

"Coach, please. Stuff at home has been really bad. My mom's been drinking a lot again and dad's never around and I miss Ang…" I whimper. I immediately see her eyes wander from the locked in contact with my own and drift a few inches over to the bruising on my cheek. 

"Is this her work?" she asks, pointing to the wounds. I nod pathetically and look down at my feet. Sure, I'm stretching the truth a bit, but Coach Sylvester knows how ugly things can get in my house. Hell, I'm the one she leaned on when she lost her own sister last year. She had even given me two weekend passes for Cedar Point and pulled some strings to get my algebra grade bumped up, all the while threatening to make my life hell if I shed light of her sweet side to anyone. I hear her sigh and she crumbles up whatever paper she had been scribbling on. 

"Look kid, I know things at home get tough. But you need to get your act together here at school. Do we need to call somebody about your mom?" she asks. 

"No! Please don't…it'll make it so much worse. I promise I'll be better, please don't call anyone," I beg. 

"Fair enough. Look, I have to punish you. Show up for detention today and tomorrow after school. If you come to school with bruises like this again, I'm going to have no choice but to call someone. And if you pull crap like you pulled yesterday, your punishment will be mandatory reinstatement with the Cheerios as my number one lackey. Are we clear?" she states. 

"Yes…" I mumble and make my way for the door. 

"Lopez," she says, barely audibly and I turn around. 

"My door's always open," she chokes out, and we both feel uncomfortable. I nod silently and walk out into the hall, coming face to face with Quinn. 

"Hey," I mumble, trying to get my wits about me. I'm never one for apologizing, except for when Brittany flashes me her puppy dog eyes after I accidentally eat the last yellow gummy bear, but I know my blow up at Quinn yesterday was pretty uncalled for and I should probably make amends. 

"So, can we talk about yesterday?" she asks, crossing her arms. I know it's out of concern, not anger. We've gotten in our spiffs before, and up until last night I had always considered them real fights, when in reality we hadn't done much but slap and shove each other into a few lockers. We would always make up hours later and end up hiding under the bleachers with my dad's flask talking about sneaking to Cleveland for a Killers concert and our dreams of getting out of Lima after high school. 

"Look…it's just…I…well…" I stutter…the word sorry doesn't roll of my tongue easily, and honestly I'd rather just hug it out and move on. 

"There's just a lot going on in my life right now," I choke out. Her appearance softens and she steps closer to me. 

"Brit told me about the mugger. I don't know why you couldn't just tell me," she whispers, not wanting others to hear us. 

"I just really don't want to talk about it, Quinn. Please understand that. I found a way to deal, I'm fine," I tell her. 

"You're not like doing drugs or anything are you?" she asks so quietly I can barely hear her. 

"No, look, it's nothing like that. I can't really talk about it. I'm fine though, okay?" I insist. 

"Q, Lopez, get to class!" coach hollers outside the office door. Quinn shoots me a sympathetic smirk, but eyes me up and down suspiciously as she saunters off. It's weird to say the least but I shrug it off and head to class.

School's over and I'm eighteen minutes into my hour long detention. Puck's here, of course, sleeping in a desk behind me. Other than that the room is crammed with underclassmen. Coach Bieste is running detention today, and even though she told us all to work on homework, I've stayed quite content perched up on one elbow staring at the clock. I imagine all the places I could be instead of here. I imagine I'm sprawled out on my bed, making out with Brittany.

_She's dressed in a bikini…no, even better, a slutty school girl outfit. I feel my eyes flutter closed as I picture her sauntering toward my bed, shirt unbuttoned and hair a complete mess. She pulls the loose tie from around her neck and uses it to tie my hands together above my head. Her hips start to sway to music only she can hear in her head but I don't care. She prances around seductively in stocking clad legs and I can't help but stare at her perfectly shaped ass crammed amazingly into that fucking plaid skirt.  
>"Do you like this baby?" she mumbles, crawling onto the foot of the bed and snaking her way up my body.<br>_"Oh god yeah," I groan out loud, forgetting for a moment that it's just a fantasy. A few chuckles cause my eyes to snap open in embarrassment and shock. 

"Something you want to share with the group there, Lopez?" Coach Bieste looks up from her book, intrigued and annoyed. Fuck, why did I have to go turn myself on like that? 

"No…no," I mutter, hanging my head in my hands. 

"Wet dream? Nice," Puck whispers behind me. 

"Shut up," I snap back. 

"Was it about Brittany? Was she naked?" he continues to pester me. 

"Shove it, Puck!" I quip back a little louder. 

"Hey! Both of you pipe down or you can redo your detention Saturday!" Coach Bieste hollers. I lean back in my chair, arms crossed, completely frustrated. I can't wait to get out of here.

It's eight at night. I'm sitting in my car at the warehouse again. I came here on a hunch that these bitches do this nightly and I'm ready to redeem myself from last night's fiasco. So after a quick post-detention make out session with Brittany, a quick lie about a fake SAT prep class to my mother and a few energy drinks from the gas station, here I am. I take a sip out of the second can and as I tip my head back down I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I swallow the berry flavored liquid, already feeling the caffeine pumping through my blood stream. It's a sickening combination, bonded with some left over sexual frustration from this afternoon and the bittersweet hallucination I had of my sister last night. What are you so scared of Lopez? Things can't possibly get any worse. The whole school thinks I'm a wuss already. Especially Brittany. She probably tells Ms. Pilsbury what I wimp I was that night. How I let that guy take all her stuff and didn't even fight back. I have to prove them wrong. All of them. I'm not weak. I'm Santana fucking Lopez.

I make my way down the steel steps into the lower level of the warehouse. It looks no different than last night. I clench my fists and gaze around. Adrenaline is pumping through every inch of my body. I need to wreck someone. 

"Well, well, well. Look who came back for more. Didn't get enough last night bitch?" Jamie approaches me, wiping somebody's blood off her knuckles. 

"I'm not here to fight you, Jamie," I tell her. 

"Oh thank God, you really had me shaking in my boots there for a second. Hear that guys? She doesn't want to fight. Thank you for sparing my life there, boss. How can I ever repay you?" she quips, high fiving a few of her friends as they laugh. I choose not to respond and instead lunge forward at her sidekick, tackling her to the ground. The room is instantly filled with shouting and cussing, and everyone takes a step back, giving us room to fight. 

"Bad move," the girl says below me and uses only one arm to toss me off onto the concrete next to her. She moves swiftly to her feet and I do the same, holding my fists up. She moves toward me and takes a hard swing with her right hand. I duck, dodging it, only to be blindsided by an equally fast left hook. It collides with my ear with such force that I lose my balance, and all I can hear is buzzing. I manage to stay on my feet though, and she's too impressed with herself to notice. I take a few quick steps toward her and deliver several blows to her midsection. I punch as hard as I can repeatedly until she's doubled over, winded. I deliver a quick shot to her jaw and pull my hand back as the bone on bone contact sends pain shrieking up my arm. She stumbles toward me, sensing my moment of weakness, but I bounce back. As she's about to deliver the kill shot I grab her by the shoulders and snap my neck forward furiously, delivering a vicious head butt and knocking her to the ground instantly. My head is throbbing from the impact. She's unconscious. Holy shit I won. A few of the girls kneel around her to see if she's okay. One checks her pulse and then looks up at me. 

"That was fucking awesome dude!" she exclaims, standing up and patting me on the shoulder. 

"Beginners luck. Look, we all know Steph's not even a strong fighter. Just because you came in here bitter because I whooped your ass last night doesn't mean you proved anything. Come back tomorrow night, I'll have a real challenge waiting for you," Jamie taunts me. I stare back at her, pissed that she can't just admit I won fair and square, and right when she turns to walk away, she quickly turns back toward me, acting like she's going to take a swing. Her and her friends laugh when it makes me flinch. 

"I'll be here," I mutter back at her, turning to leave. As I make my way to the top step and out the door, I am met with an unpleasant surprise. 

"Quinn? What the fuck are you doing here?" I ask, shocked to see her outside the building where she had been peeking through a window. 

"So this is how you're dealing huh? Fucking fight club?" she interrogates me. 

"It's none of your business. How did you find me?" I shout, beyond furious. 

"I followed you here from 7/11. This is stupid, Santana. You're going to get yourself killed. If you're pissed about the mugging you should just see a counselor like Brittany," 

"Fuck that, alright? You know me Quinn, you know I can't talk about shit! I mean, fuck…you weren't there that night. I stood there, Quinn. I stood there and let him rob us and didn't even protect her. I talk all this shit about Lima Heights and when I had the chance to back it up I stood there like a fucking coward. Brittany's in her own little world. She needs someone who can protect her, and up until that night I thought it was me. I need to make myself strong for her," I try to explain. 

"Santana, you are strong. And tough. Nobody I know would ever dare fuck with you. You can't let that guy change your life. Brittany would hate this and you know it," she tries consoling me. 

"Well that's why you can't tell her. Because I'm not going to stop fighting," I tell her firmly. 

"So Brittany's off getting counseling about how to cope with violence, and here you are, creating more violence? Look I get that you need to feel brave right now, I can't imagine what you went through that night, but…" 

"Yeah, Quinn you're right! You don't know what I went through that night. So get off my back and just be my friend okay? I know what I'm doing," I cut her off, getting frustrated. 

"I'm not just going to be cool with this Santana. I am your friend, that's why I don't want you to do this to yourself," she steps closer to me, trying to calm me down. 

"Fine then, don't support it, I don't care. Just don't fucking tell anyone, okay? Especially Brittany. I'm doing this for her," 

"Fine," she mutters. I nod gratefully, trusting that we have an understanding and make my way to the car. The side of my face is swollen and my head is killing me. Quinn caught me doing the one thing nobody's supposed to know about and is I catch her at the wrong moment any time from here on out, she could rat me out to Brittany. But only one thing matters right now.  
>I fucking won.<p> 


	10. Chapter 10

I don't know why I'm doing this. Santana Lopez never asks for advice. Maybe it's because I know Puck's been in jail, or maybe it's because we grew up on the same block and we share a sort of mutual trust, even if we've gotten into a few spats over the years; he slept with Brittany sophomore year when he knew I was nuts about her. Either way, I find myself sitting across from him the cafeteria this morning and before I can stop myself it comes out of my mouth. 

"Can you teach me how to fight?"

He laughs at first, shaking his head and chugging the rest of his chocolate milk.

"I'm serious, Puck," I reply, taking a large bite of my blueberry muffin. I make a mental note to save half for Brittany and give it to her in math class. They're her favorite.

"Why, who do you have to fight? Zeises again? Cause let me tell you, I could teach you everything I know and she'd still kick your ass," he chuckles. I'm not sure what he sees in Lauren Zeises, but I guess its slim pickings when the two hottest pieces of action in the school are already dating each other.

"Look. I'm sure you heard about what happened to me and Brit right?" my voice cracks.

"Oh yeah, the mugger. Brit told us in glee club the other day. Wait, are you trying to go find the guy? I'm not letting you do that, Lopez, not by yourself. If you want to get the creep I'm going with you," he suddenly gets concerned, reaching across the table and holding my hand. I surprise myself when I don't pull away. I just let myself be taken care of for a second.

"I don't want to get him. I hate myself for that night. I need to toughen up, I need to be able to fight. For Brittany. I have to protect her. I really let her down," I mumble. My eyes flutter closed as he rubs my hand. All I feel is exhaustion.

"Brit doesn't think that at all. She's just worried about you. In fact all she keeps telling everyone is how brave you were that night," he consoles me.

"I wish I had been there with you guys to knock that fucker out," he continues.

"So teach me how to fight. I have to fight a girl tonight and I need some pointers. I got my ass handed to me the other night," I explain. He arches his eyebrow at me, confused.

"So you've just been picking fights with strangers to feel tough? Sounds like a good way to end up in jail or in a coma," he replies.

"I met this girl at the gym. And she runs this like…fighting club thing. And she destroyed me the other night but last night I knocked her little lackey the fuck out and now she's pissed so she's going to make me fight some beast tonight. Puck, you have to help me or I'm going to get wrecked," I beg him.

"Why do you have to do any of this? Just don't go," he shrugs.

"I'm not backing down. I'm done running away, Puck. Just show me how to throw a decent punch. I'm doing this with or without your help. But with would be a lot easier," I coax him.

"Fine. You have detention again?" he asks.

"Yeah, unfortunately," I nod.

"Okay, meet me after detention. But I'm coming with you to this fight," he states. I nod acceptingly and pull my hand away from his.

"Deal. Just don't tell Brittany, okay?" I request.

"Don't tell me what?" I hear behind me. I swing around quickly and see Brittany walking toward me.

"Um, damn babe what are you doing here? You ruined the surprise," I say as sweetly as I can, standing up to plant a kiss on her lips. I feel her smile as we kiss.

"You got me a surprise?" she beams, wrapping her arms around my neck.

"Kiss her again," Puck says, still sitting at the table. I turn sharply and glare down at him.

"Shut up,"

"Sorry, it just never gets old," he replies, grinning I turn back to Brittany, tying my arms around her slender waist. She looks totally delicious in a pair of ripped jeans, a pink polo and black sweater vest.

"Well, baby…I kind of got you a surprise but I was going to save it for your birthday," I whisper, hoping she buys it.

"But San, that's like five months away! Your birthday is like two weeks away and I didn't get you anything yet," she whimpers.

"That's okay, Brit. I don't need anything," I assure her. One day I can tell her about the fighting, I think to myself. I could never keep it from her very long. This is the girl I love, for crying out loud. Things are a mess right now, but I still want to marry this girl one day. Once I'm tougher, I decide. Once I can be strong enough to deserve her, I'll tell her. Then she'll know it was all worth it.

"Well since I can't have my surprise until June…can we go out to dinner tonight?" she asks, breaking me out of my thoughts.

"Oh, babe that sounds perfect, but I can't. I have detention again and mom told me I have to come straight home. But we can hang out all weekend okay? We'll stay in our pajamas and get pizza and watch movies, okay?" I promise her. I really do want to spend time with her. But I know I need to fight to keep her.

"Okay!" she exclaims, hugging me tightly. The bell rings for first period and I grab my bag off the table, swinging it over my shoulder. I pull the last half of my muffin up and hand it to Brittany. She giggles excitedly and kisses me on the cheek, starting to nibble on it as we walk to class.

"The key to winning a fight is as much in your head as it is in your fists,"  
>So here we are, Puck and I, underneath the bleachers. I'm frozen from head to toe and just want to throw a few punches, but of course he's going Master Splinter on me. <p>

"What the fuck are you talking about?" I ask. I take a swig out of the bottle of whiskey he snuck over in his gym bag. He pulls the bottle from my hands and takes a swig himself. 

"Stop drinking, Lopez and listen. This girl who crushed you…was she a beast?" he asks. 

"Yes, she's totally ripped," I admit. 

"Is she confident?" he questions. 

"I guess so…I mean…" I try, but he cuts me off. 

"Right, so she knows she's the shit. But she didn't start at the top. If there's one thing I learned in juvie it's that nobody comes in and takes over. Learned that shit the hard way. She probably got a few ass beatings herself before she got sick of it and started cleaning house on bitches," he rambles. 

"What's your point?" I ask. The whiskey is starting to warm my belly. I'm getting dizzy. 

"My point is that you're chum right now. Bottom of the barrel. You need to go in there and get ape shit on somebody's ass. Go in there, find the biggest bitch in the place and take her ass out," he tells me. 

"Puck, Jamie's the biggest bitch in the place. And she bulldozed me the other night," 

"So start with smaller fights, beat those bitches down and get your confidence up. Then once you build a rep, drop that mother fucker," he says.

"She only beat you because she psyched you out. She was totally confident and you were probably cowering like a little bitch," he continues. I open my mouth to scold him, but he's right so I shut up.

"That's good and all but I need to actually be able to hit and stuff," I reply.

"Come on, Lopez. You can land a punch. You don't need my help with that," he says.

"When I punched Jamie she barely flinched. She just laughed at me and said it was cute," I explain.

"So punch me. Let's see what you got," he starts taunting me. I shake my head.

"Puck I don't want to punch you, just tell me what to do…" I admit.

"Come on, right in the kisser. Let's see it Lopez," he tries again. I just chuckle and turn around.

"Damn, Brittany's ass was looking fine in those jeans today right?" he eggs me on.

"Puck…cool it," I warn him. Nobody talks about my girl like that.

"Nah, it's cool, San. We're buds…but I was walking behind her today and damn that tush is like the pistons on a Ferrari," he continues. I turn to face him and he sees I'm getting pissed.

"I mean sure I already got on that a few years ago. But if she keeps wearing pants like that I may call her for a repeat performance," he says and I lose it I run toward him and launch my fist at his face as hard as I can. He stumbles backward but maintains his balance. Blood drips from his mouth into his cupped hands.

"Son of a bitch, Lopez," he moans.

"You deserved that," I tell him, trying to shake the pain out of my fist.

"So just get that pissed every time you fight and you'll be fine," he replies, wiping some blood off his chin.

"Every person I fight isn't going to say disgusting stuff about my girlfriend," I remind him.

"I'm sure other stuff pisses you off. Think about your parents or Rachel Berry or hell, if it works for you, think about me and Brittany getting it on," he says.

"You want to get punched again?" I warn him.

"Easy, I'm not going to go after her. She's yours, I get that. Besides…you'll always be my what if girl…" he says, moving closer to me.

"Puck, don't…" I say.

"I'm not going to do anything. I get it, we're both into boobs, it's cool," he chuckles.

"I think you're over simplifying it a little," I laugh back. He puts his hands on my shoulders and stares into my eyes.

"You ready to kick some ass?" he asks me.

"I guess we'll find out," I admit.

"Come on, let's go get some grub first. I'm starving," he says and leads me toward the parking lot. It's pretty empty save for a few cars, mine and Puck's and a few others I imagine belong to the janitors. I notice a note attached to my windshield and start to unfold it as I nod to Puck that I will meet him at Sonic in a few. As I sit in the driver's seat and turn the car on, cranking up the heat I open the note. It's a picture of a cupcake and below it is scribbled :Thanks for the muffin. I love you! Xoxoxoxo, Brittany. I smile to myself and put it in my bag. I'll hang it in my locker tomorrow. That will make her happy.

Once my car is warm I head downtown to meet Puck. I wish for a moment I could change this hell I'm in. I wish I could wake up from this nightmare. I don't want to be this person. I don't want to be the animal I've turned into, craving violence and distancing myself from the world one day at a time. But I know I have no choice. It's run or fight, Lopez.

Let's do this.


	11. Chapter 11

_**Well I'm back…sorry for the extremely ridiculous delay. Honestly, I lost motivation with this, I was working so hard on it for a while and it wasn't really getting any feedback, so I started working on other things. But I did have a few requests to keep going so that's what I'm doing.**_

_**I want to stress…this story does currently and will probably continue to contain violence. So if you don't like that, please don't read. It is a story about someone coping with being a victim of a violent crime, so honestly it is to be expected. **_

_**Please enjoy:)**_

I sit in the car in the parking lot to the factory, trying to get myself psyched up, idly picking at the cold fries that lay discarded on my passenger seat. Puck shouldn't be too far behind me, he only had to wait for his ridiculous order of four cheeseburgers and a cherry limeade back at Sonic. For some reason, even though I've done it every night this week, I don't want to go in there alone. Jamie was beyond pissed that I took out her little protégé the other night. She's probably got somebody waiting in there to kill me. For a split second I think that might just be easier than all this. I mean, god knows my mom wished I was dead instead of Ang, and my dad would probably go back to having no kids if he could. Quinn's too busy for me these days and obviously Brittany deserves so much more than me. I wonder to myself in that moment, if I die on that cold cement floor tonight, if the last thing I see of this earth is Jamie's gloating face over my swollen, bloody one, if I leave this world as weak and vulnerable as I came into it, would anybody really care? Would anybody's lives change?

I'm ripped from my thoughts as Puck's old Bronco zips up next to my Subaru and parks. I sigh and get out of the car and lean back against the hood. He approaches me, half a cheeseburger hanging out of his mouth as he's digging through his pockets. He pulls out his pack of Newports and offers me one, and suddenly I feel like an inmate on death row being offered my last meal. I take one gratefully and perch it between my lips, patting my pockets in hopes I'd have one of my trusty Bics on me. Without hesitation Pick whips out his Zippo and with a quick flick of his wrist and a subtle crackling sound, I'm inhaling the smooth, menthol goodness.

"Thanks," I mutter, letting some of the smoke flow out through my nostrils.

"Just take everything that's ever made you mad and use it in there okay?" he tells me, lighting up his own smoke.

I let my mind reel, back to nearly every time I could remember losing my temper. From the time Ang got a cool birthday party at Chuck-E-Cheese with all her friends and I just got a brownie with a candle in it and a card with five dollars in it from my grandmother, to the Christmas that same year when Ang got a bike and I got a jump rope and gum. I think of the night I finally came out, and my mom's drunken response was dragging me to her bathroom and throwing me in the tub, dousing me in ice cold water in soap, rambling on about sin and 'no daughter of mine'. I think of the day I told my mother I wanted to be a writer, and her telling me the only thing more pointless than be being a lesbian would be for me to write about it. I think of my college fund, which is now known as the custom Mahogany liquor cabinet in my parents den, along with most of the first bottles that ever called it home. I think of being so in love with Brittany, and being afraid to tell her for so long while I watched what seemed like every guy and girl under the sun go after her. I think of that fucking mugger's face, and the sound of Brittany's cries as he beat the shit out of me and stole her stuff. I think of my sister's death, and how she was really going places, and here I am smoking a cigarette with a belly full of disgusting fast food, getting ready to go throw a few punches just because feeling pain is better than feeling nothing at all.

"You okay?" Puck asks and I snap out of my trance, taking one last drag off my smoke before flicking it into a slushy puddle nearby.

"If I die tonight, tell Brittany I love her, okay? Just tell her I was doing this for her," I tell him as we start to walk toward the door.

"You're not going to die, Lopez. Worst case scenario, you bust up your face a little. I don't know if you've noticed but you're kind of covered in bruises already," he points out.

"Yeah I know. It's getting harder to hide this shit from Brittany. I can only hit myself with the car door or fall in the shower so many times. Not mention Sue thinks my parents are beating me. Not like that hasn't happened a billion times, but if she calls child services like she wants to, my mom's reaction will be worse than what any of these bitches in here could do," I explain.

"Speaking of hiding shit…when are you going to tell Brittany about this?" he asks.

"I don't know…whenever I'm good enough at it that she can feel safe with me again," I tell him.

"She does feel safe with you, you lunatic. You're her hero, that never changed. Maybe you should let her protect you for once, cause if you asked me, this whole situation fucked you up a lot more than it did Brittany," he explains.

"She deserves a hero. That's what I promised her I'd be for her, always," I tell him as we open the door and start walking down the stairs to the basement.

"You deserve a hero too, San," he says, but I'm already in go-mode.

It's crowded tonight, a lot of girls I recognize now, but a few seem new. Jamie's in the middle of it all, of course, throwing practice punches like it's her job.

"Good grief," Puck sighs, taking in our surroundings. Puck's been in plenty of fights in his day, but I'm betting my ass he's never seen anything like this.

Jamie's little lackey nudges her with her shoulder and nods her head in my direction, tipping Jamie off with my arrival. She drops her fists and chuckles, heading over to me. I stand my ground and try not to gulp too loud.

"Look who it is, the little chicken shit showed up. And you brought your big bad boyfriend, huh?" she taunts me.

"He's not my boyfriend," I scowl, crossing my arms.

"Ah. She too much of a whiny little bitch for you, bro?" Jamie asks him.

"Nah, actually she's tough as nails and scares the piss out of me most of the time. But we aren't together. I mean not for lack of trying, I've been trying to get in those pants since like the sixth grade. But she's all about the ladies," Puck shrugs and I roll my eyes.

"Puck, you're not helping," I tell him.

"What? Chill, San, I'm sure they could smell it on you. In fact I'm sure that you're part of the majority here, all these girls seem like lady lovers to me," he points out and I just shake my head.

"Okay, gals if you're done with coffee talk, how about we get down to business?" Jamie interrupts and I shoo Puck off to a corner.

"I'm not scared of you Jamie. I beat your little sidekick and I can beat you too," I say, a little more cocky than I probably should be.

"Oh really? I'm pretty sure I knocked your fucking lights out just a few nights ago and you ran out of here like the pathetic little bitch you are," she mocks, poking me in the chest with one very strong finger.

"That was a cheap shot. That whole fight was cheap," I say, not breaking eye contact. Without looking away she chucks her water bottle halfway across the room and steps closer so that our noses are touching.

"Listen, dipshit. You might own things at whatever pussy ass high school you run the chess club for, but this is my house. And no short stub little Latina geek lesbian pussy who can't throw a decent punch to save her life is gonna come in here and tell me how to fight. We don't throw words here, we throw fists. So you got something to say, let's go. I'm done with your attitude, Blossom, and I really think…"

I cut her off, lunging my fist as hard as I can into the side of her head. She side steps a bit, thrown off by the impact before she turns back and lunges right at me. I brace myself, but it's no match for her strength and we both tumble to the ground where she pins me down fiercely.

"You think you're slick huh? Talk about cheap," she gloats. I try to wiggle free, but she has both my arms pinned flush hard to the cold concrete floor.

"Let me up," I groan, still attempting to free myself.

"Haha. So cute," she chuckles, and lifts one arm long enough to send a fierce punch drilling right into my jaw, before reapplying pressure to my other arm and repeating the move several times with alternating fists. I can already taste the blood gathering in my mouth as she continues pounding on my face.

"Hey back off, girl, you made your point!" I hear Puck yell, and I take advantage of the fact that Jamie becomes momentarily distracted by his outburst. I use all the strength I have to hurl her off me, stumbling a little bit before managing to get back up on my feet. I spit some blood out onto the floor and by the time I look back up, Jamie's already back up and her fist is coming straight for my face. It connects with my nose brutally and I crouch down holding it in pain, considering this is the third time my nose has been broken in about a month, I'm starting to get used to it, although I consider for a moment that I should probably see a doctor soon.

I hear Jamie snap her fingers and before I can even wonder why, two buff girls come up behind me, each of them holding one of my arms back, keeping me in place.

"Let me go! This isn't fair!" I holler, trying to wiggle from their grasp.

"Shut up!" Jamie yells, slapping me hard across the face, sending some of the blood smeared across my face splattering across the room. She cracks her knuckles before sending one ridiculously hard punch right into my midsection, effectively knocking the wind out of me.

My body wills itself to topple over in defeat, but the other two girls man handling me keep me held upright for Jamie to finish her assault. She alternates punches between my stomach and face and I'm on the brink of unconsciousness. I'm not sure what I'm feeling as her rock hard knuckles keep colliding with my muscles, but the pain doesn't feel like it used to.

People are shouting in the background, but I can't make out any actual words, it all sounds like muffled moans to me. Again and again she pounds punches into me and even though I finally open my mouth to cry or scream for her to stop, all that comes out is a laugh. A loud, hysterical laugh that brewed somehow deep in my belly and erupted from my throat beyond my control.

My head is hung down, so I don't see how Jamie reacts but she must me because she stops wailing on me for a moment and takes a step back. I'm still laughing as her not so little helpers hoist me up from my slouched position and I see Jamie's feet shuffle back toward me before she delivers two quick shots, one deep into my lower stomach followed swiftly by another one across my jaw. The other girls release their hold on me on her command, and my body plummets to the cold ground. I'm still trembling with laughter as I lay there covered in my own blood, probably with more broken bones than I realize.

"Get help, you psycho," Jamie mutters above me. Even still, I can't stop laughing hysterically, and it isn't even until Puck scampers over and scoops my crumpled body off the ground that I realize why.

I deserve this pain.


	12. Chapter 12

I wake up to the sensation of something ice cold resting on my nose. It hurts, and the pain sends me spiraling back into the memories of what could only have been a few hours ago. I will myself to open my eyes, it's tough because my severely broken nose has nearly swollen them both shut, but I manage to crack them enough to check out my surroundings.

I'm on some kind of futon, with a blanket covering my legs. My tank top is pushed up to just below my breasts and my head is resting on some really old, worn in pillow.

"Hey kiddo," I hear and turn my head slightly to check the source. It's Puck's mom, holding the ice pack on my face with one hand and rubbing the top of my head with the other.

"How did I…where's…" I mumble, feeling pretty weak still and not really understanding how I ended up passed out on their couch.

"Noah brought you here in a panic. He went out to get a few things from the pharmacy. You're really banged up, and I wanted to take you right to the hospital, but he said you wouldn't want that," she explains.

"No hospital," I mutter. Puck's mom is a nurse at the county hospital and for as long as I can remember, every time Puck and I would scrape a knee or get a bloody nose playing she'd want to rush us there and every single time I'd get an earful from my mother on the car ride home. I knew this night would be no different.

"Honey, what's going on with you? I've never known you to go out and just get in fights," she wonders, popping a second ice pack and holding it against my bruised abdomen. I wince at the sensation.

"Nothing's going on. I'm fine," I tell her, and I honestly believe myself. This pain I feel probably doesn't put a dent in the pain Brittany feels inside, the fear she must feel knowing that she's in love with some scum like me.

"Is this about what happened at the mall? Noah told me about that honey, and I really think you should talk to somebody. Noah's worried. Hell, I'm worried," she tells me. I could never see a therapist. I just hate talking. Even when my sister died and people told my mother to send me to a grief counselor, she rattled on about how therapy was for people with more money than problems and it was always left at that.

"Why is everybody so worried? I'm fine! So a guy stole my credit card, big deal. My mom used to lock me in a closet when I was bad, would just use my dad's belts to tie my hands and feet together and leave me in there for hours while she took my sister out for ice cream. So trust me, this little thing at the mall hasn't affected me as much as you all think. I'm fine. Great actually. In fact I should get going, I have a lot to do. Thanks Mrs. P," I attempt to sit up, but thanks to the pain in my midsection and Mrs. Puckerman's tight grip pulling my arm back down, I'm unable to get anywhere.

"You're doing no such thing. It's one o clock in the morning and it's freezing outside. I already called your mother and told her you were here with me not feeling well and I wanted to keep an eye on you," she explains.

"Let me guess, she didn't care," I reply.

"She…well…honestly, I think she'd been drinking," she guesses.

"Shocker," I mumble. I hear droplets of water and soon she takes a warm rag and starts running it over my hands, I'm assuming to get the dry blood off them. It does feel good being pampered for once, but I try not to let myself enjoy it, because I know I don't deserve it.

It isn't long before I hear Puck walk in, with what sounds like a ton of bags.

"Is she awake?" he asks, kneeling by my side.

"I'm awake," I mutter before his mother has a chance to answer.

"Hey. Listen, Lopez. No more of that, okay? You damn near died. Those bitches are insane. You never told me it was like that or I never would've let you do it," he tells me.

"Noah, you encouraged this?" his mother asks, shocked, still running the warm rag over my hands and arms.

"He was trying to protect me. Don't worry Puck. Next time you won't have to know a thing," I tell him.

"No way, San. There isn't going to be a next time. I don't care if I have to watch you 24/7, you're not going back to fight those girls again," he warns.

"Why not? Puck I need this, why are you being this way?" I groan.

"Because I don't want to see my best friend get killed! And for what, to prove to Brittany that you're tough? Cause guess what, Brittany would hate this! And you know it! How do you plan on explaining to her tomorrow why you can barely walk or open your eyes?" he snaps. He takes one of my hands and places a cold bottle of what I assume to be soda in it, pushing it up toward my mouth to take a drink.

"Maybe you can explain it Puck. Just explain to her that her girlfriend is a huge fucking loser who is never going to amount to anything and she might as well just break up with me now before things get worse," I grumble, taking a sip of the drink.

"San, this isn't you. Can't you see how much you've changed? You need help, like a therapist and probably some kind of meds. This dude fucked you up. The Santana I know walks around proud as hell and strong and brave, confident and happy to have Brittany on her arm. I know you love Brittany and being with her has got to mean more than this stupid fighting," he says.

"I agree Santana. This isn't you at all. And while I know that this incident was just the cherry on top of a lot of emotional trauma in your life, it doesn't change the fact that you really need some help getting the old Santana back. It's nothing to be ashamed of honey, any of us would be struggling with this. There's a doctor down at the hospital, Dr. Podanski, she's a great therapist. She helped me through my divorce and I'm sure if I talked to her she wouldn't mind talking to you, or letting you vent or whatever you need. You're self destructing Santana, and it's a bad road to be on," she rambles.

"Well it's the only road I've got right now. And as far as I can tell, this is the only way I can keep Brittany safe," I admit.

"Brittany is fine! It's not like you guys get attacked every day, it happened once!" he shouts.

"Look, Puck, I thought you understood this? Brittany is all I have. I have to do whatever I can to keep her," I tell him.

XxXxXxXxX

The next day I head back to the factory to get my car so I can head to school. I know already it will be a horrible day as soon as I get there. I'll probably get called into Sue's office because of my cut up, swollen face. Not to mention what Brittany will say about it.

I can't stop thinking about what Puck and his mom said to me last night. Does everybody really think I'm crazy? That I'm being irrational? I'm just trying to survive.

The icy wind bites at my skin, even through the fabric of the same hoodie and jeans I was wearing yesterday. As I see the factory come into view I am grateful for the thought of being able to warm up soon. I start to sprint, and wince as pain shoots up through both sides of my rib cage. I'm sure there's a few broken, but there isn't shit I can do about it so I keep running.

When I finally get to the car I jump in eagerly and start it right away. I look at myself in the mirror for the first time today since rolling off Puck's couch. I look like hell. The skin around my eyes is almost darker than my hair. My nose is swollen and I can definitely see that it's broken. My cheeks are puffy with little cuts here and there, and my bottom lip is split right down the middle.

And somehow, I love it.

I start the short drive to school, feeling more confident than I have in a while. It's hard to wrap my head around; I know there's a million reasons why I shouldn't be proud of myself, I got my ass beat last night, I've been lying to my girl and my friends all think I'm nuts, for starters. Yet, sporting these battle wounds, I feel strong. As weird as it is, a part of me doesn't want these scars to fade.

"You're really messing up you know," I hear from my right and flinch in terror. There, in the passenger seat is my sister. But it can't be. She's dead, right? She's dead. She's dead?

"What the fuck!" I yell, trying to keep my car on the road.

"Watch where you're going! You know how I feel about car accidents," she hollers at me with a chuckle.

"What the fuck are you doing here? I mean…not here…are you here?" I ask.

"You tell me. This is your subconscious," she replies.

"No, no, no. Don't play that game with me. What the fuck is going on?" I yell, trying to stay focused on driving.

"Santana, look at what you're doing to yourself. You're running away, and killing yourself in the process," she tells me and I grit my teeth in frustration.

"You don't know shit about my life, Ang. You haven't been here in eight fucking years," I say, it's the first time I put a number on it out loud, and it freaks me out a little.

"Please. Who knows you better than me? I am you, after all," she mocks.

"No you aren't. If you were me…why would I be questioning myself when it's pretty damn clear to me what I want?" I argue.

"Maybe I'm the last sane part of you trying to rope you back in before it's too late," she says and I roll my eyes.

"Oh, so now I'm crazy? I'm hallucinating my dead sister but she's really just me, arguing with myself? Come on Ang, don't bullshit me," I reply.

"You're going to lose Brittany. She's the only good thing in your life, why are you pissing that away?" she questions.

"If you were really me you'd know the answer to that! I need to protect her! She's all I have and I have to prove to her I'm everything she needs," I tell her.

"You always were before. What's changed?" she asked.

"Everything! Damn it, Ang. That night…with the…the mugging. Everything changed. I mean, we both know I've never been emotionally stable. Between the shit with mom, and then when you died…I was bound to be a fuck up. I never had any kind of support system. You were it, and you're gone now," I mutter, pulling into the school parking lot.

"You're going off the deep end Santana. Puck's right, you need help," she argues.

"Why don't you just leave me alone?" I grumble as I pull into my space and park. Quinn is sitting in her car in the spot across from mine, talking on her cell phone. She waves at me and signals for me to wait before I go inside.

"I didn't come here to bug you, Santana. Your subconscious brought me here. I'm just an extension of your own psyche," she replies and I growl in anger.

"I'm not crazy! You're Angela!" I cry.

"Fine, have it your way. All you have to do is will me away, then," she explains, and crosses her arms.

"Good, how do I do that?" I ask, turning the car off.

"You're the one woman show who doesn't need any help, you figure it out," she grumbles. I sigh and close my eyes, thinking to myself over and over '_Go away, go away, go away'._

I open my eyes and she's still sitting there with a shit eating grin on her face.

"Couldn't do it, could ya? That's because I'm you, and you can't will yourself away," she argues smugly. Fuck, she's cheeky in the afterlife. That's some kind of stunt I would pull.

"Whatever! I have to go to class," I groan and get out of the car.

"Hey San," Quinn approaches me with her books in her arms.

"Hey Q," I respond, grabbing my backpack out of the back seat and locking up the car. Ang is already out of the car still glaring at me. I rub my eyes and when my vision clears up again she's still there. Fuck.

"Um, San, who were you yelling at in the car? I thought maybe Brittany was in there with you, but…" she asks.

"Nah, Ang just won't get off my back," I grumble. Quinn looks at me, arching an eyebrow.

"Ang? Your sister?" she asks.

"She fuckin harassed me the whole way here. I don't need it. You gonna follow me to class to?" I snap at Ang, who hangs a few steps behind me and Quinn as we walk toward the school.

"San…who are you talking to?" Quinn asks, looking behind us. I look back too and point at Ang. Quinn follows the line between my finger and where I'm pointing and then looks at me again.

"Okay, come on, let's get some breakfast," she declares and starts pushing me toward the school faster.

XxXxXxX

We're walking toward the cafeteria when Quinn loops her arm around my waist right as we're about to pass the guidance office.

"Come in here with me quick," she encourages and I freeze up.

"No, I don't want to go in there. You can't make me talk," I argue.

"Relax, I just need to see if they sent my transcript to Yale. Come on," she replies and drags me in. To my surprise we walk right past the secretary, who gives Quinn a subtle nod, and right back to Ms. Pilsbury's office. Inside, her desk is moved off to a far corner and sitting in a small circle are her, Puck, coach Sue, Mr. Shuester and Brittany. Oh fuck. What is this? I need to get out of here. I turn to leave but Quinn has already locked the door and pinned herself up against it.

"Sit down, Santana," she orders and I panic.

"Puck you fuckin narc! I yell, lunging toward him. He catches me in his arms and slowly lowers me down to the ground.

"Shh, it's okay. San I know you're mad right now but we're all here for you. Relax, it's okay," he tries to sooth me, but it's not working. I feel like I'm on display.

"Sanny?" I hear Brittany's sweet voice above me. She's kneeling now, and she starts stroking my hair as I fall apart in Puck's arms.

"Brit…" I choke.

"Sanny please talk to us. Puck told me what happened. You didn't have to lie, Sanny. I would've helped you. I love you. Please, talk to us," she begs. I see her notice my bruises and scars and they seem to scare her more than anger her. I let myself be pulled up by her and Puck and take the seat between them.

"Santana, first thing you should know is this is a safe space. Everybody here cares about you, and we want you to be okay," Mr. Schue starts. My heart is beating out of my chest now. Sue clears her throat and stands to speak next.

"That being said, this is an intervention,"

Fuck.


	13. Chapter 13

A fucking intervention? Are you kidding me? Ang is across the room leaning on a bookshelf, smirking at me as if to say 'I told you so'. I look to my right, to Brittany, hoping to send her a gaze that will make her call this whole thing off. She doesn't though, just shoots me back a sympathetic little pout and squeezes my hand. Fine, then. I'll get them out of my hair myself.

"Guys, I don't need this. I'm fine. Whatever you think is going on here, you're wrong," I tell them.

"Santana, you look like you got hit by a truck. You're covered in bruises and cuts. Puck told us what's been going on, and it's not okay," Mr. Schue says.

"It's not like I'm on drugs! I'm not doing anything illegal," I argue.

"That's not the issue, Santana. You're being self destructive, and we're afraid you're losing sight of yourself," he continues.

"So in other words, you all think I'm insane," I shrug.

"Santana, we're not saying that. But you don't sleep unless somebody knocks you out, you hardly eat…" Puck interjects.

"Yeah, and San…who were you saying you were arguing with before out in the car?" Quinn asks.

"I told you Quinn, it was Ang! She was feeding me the same psycho babble bullshit you all are right now. I don't need it!" I holler.

"Um…"

"Santana, Ang your older sister? She died remember?" Miss. Pilsbury questions me. I still see Ang, in the far corner of the room, reading one of Miss. Pilsbury's motivational posters.

"If she's dead, then why is she here?" I shout, pointing over toward her. Everybody looks for a moment then looks back at me. Coach Sue scratches her head. Brittany squeezes my hand tighter. Miss Pilsbury scribbles something down on a pad. I swear I hear her whisper 'hallucinations' and 'worse than we thought'.

"No! No, she's right there! She's right over there by the poster! Ang, tell them!" I yell.

"Good job making them think you're not crazy," she mocks.

"I'm not crazy! I'm not, and you know it! Tell them!" I shout and she just shakes her head at me.

"Brittany, Brittany, you see her right? Right there? You see her right baby?" I plead, looking as deep into Brittany's eyes as I can. She bites her bottom lip and looks to the corner one more time before catching my gaze again.

"I want to, San…I really do…" she mumbles. I fall to my knees at this in front of Brittany, holding onto her hips, glaring into her eyes with my tear filled ones.

"Please baby, you know me. Tell them I'm not crazy. You know me Brit! You know I'm not crazy! Please tell them baby. Please," I beg.

"Sanny…I…let's just listen to what Miss Pilsbury has to say, alright?" is all she says, pulling me back into my chair. I hear Ang laugh a little in the corner and look up at her.

"Even your girlfriend thinks you're nuts. I told you," she mocks, flipping through one of Miss Pilsbury's pamphlets.

"Shut up Ang! Just leave me alone!" I yell, and Brittany wraps both arms around me, trying to calm me down.

"Santana, last night when you were with my mom I went to see Mr. Schue before I brought you back that food. And all of us ended up talking last night and set this up," Puck explains.

"And it's pretty clear to all of us that you need help. We aren't judging you. We want you to get better," Quinn adds.

"So Sue called in a favor, and when we talked to your parents they signed off. We got you in at Pine Hollow. It's the best…mental…care facility in the whole state. There's a two year waiting list typically, but luckily with Sue's connections we got you a room on 24 hours notice," Mr. Schue explains.

"What? No! You can't make me go there! Brittany, you can't let them try to do this!" I whine.

"Santana, I'm sorry. But since you're causing harm to yourself and you are a minor, you have to go because your parents signed off on it," Miss Pilsbury tells me and I feel myself starting to hyperventilate.

"So my parents signed papers to send me to the nut bin even though they didn't know where I was last night?" I question. Honestly I'm not surprised. They probably thought they were adoption papers and they'd finally be getting rid of me. My room's probably a wine cellar already.

"Santana, don't think negatively about this. It's not a bad place. It's a place you can go rest, get some perspective. They have very skilled doctors there who will figure out what you need. You'll have a room, a bed, 3 hot meals a day…it's going to be so good for you," Miss Pilsbury tries to justify as she passes brochures for this funny farm around to everyone.

"Don't beat around the bush! You're all fucking having me committed! I'm not crazy!" I cry.

"Alright, Lopez, listen up cause this is all I'm gonna say and then we're going to get your bags and getting on the road. Everyone in this room is here because they were scared if they didn't do something we'd be standing over your body in a casket one day soon. This isn't a hate crime, or us shunning you, this is something you need and instead of being so damn stubborn you need to grab it with both hands and get everything you can out of it. Schuester, Bambi and I are paying cash, our own personal money for you to go to this facility. Quinn has agreed to come every week and teach your lessons so you can still graduate this year. And Puck and Brittany are on care package detail, they're going to make sure you have everything you need to be as comfortable as possible. So go get your stuff, I'll drive you and Brittany to your house to pack your clothes and then we have to hit the road. They're expecting you at lunchtime and it's a 3 and a half hour drive," Sue rambles. I know she's trying tough love with me but it doesn't help. I feel lost, scared and so damn rejected. The people I thought always had my back in this world are sending me to the loony bin. They all say they'll visit but I know they won't. Nobody wants me anymore.

The ride to my house in the back of Sue's car is awkward and I wish I was anywhere else. Ang of course weaseled her way in and I'm between her and Brittany in the backseat.

"You gonna follow me everywhere now?" I groan and she just grins.

"What Sanny?" Brittany replies, thinking I was talking to her.

"I was talking to Ang," I tell her.

"You think Ang is in here too?" Brittany asked.

"Um, she's right next to me, following me everywhere! And this is all your fault too, Ang. You're making everybody think I'm crazy. Why can't you just go away?" I whimper, sitting back in the seat and closing my eyes.

"If you'd shut up nobody would think you're crazy! But you just keep on arguing with me," she hisses, crossing her arms.

"Cause you're being an ass! Now I'm getting thrown in the loony bin and it's all your fault!" I whine. Brittany tries to comfort me by putting her hand on my knee but it doesn't help much. It still feels like she's throwing me away.

When we finally get to my house, I'm not surprised that my dad is nowhere to be found and my mom is still sleeping on the couch.

"Be quiet. If mom sees you she'll wig out," I tell Ang as we walk up the stairs toward my room. Brittany follows us with a few duffle bags she brought from home and she starts packing my clothes. I'm too busy looking at all my things, pictures of Brit and I at Cedar Point and at the beach, of Quinn and I as little kids at Chuck-E-Cheese, of Puck and I riding our bikes around the block.

"Sanny, you want to take your pictures?" Brit asks, holding the bag close to me so I can throw them in. I ponder for a moment before putting them back down where I found them.

"No," I reply.

"Sanny, don't hate us. We're doing this because we love you and you're sick," Brittany whimpers, picking up the pictures and putting them in anyway.

"Why do you love me? You all made it clear you think I'm just a nutcase. And soon none of you will even come back to visit. Once the doctors tell you I'm crazy and it's real…everyone will just forget me there and I'll die there alone," I reply, sitting on my bed.

"Sanny, that'll never happen. We love you. I love you, so much. This isn't easy for me either, but I promise I'll visit as much as they let me," Brittany promises.

"I did it for you, Brit. I just wanted to be brave. I just wanted to be someone you could believe in…I let you down that night, and I'm sorry," I whimper.

"Sanny are you kidding? You didn't let me down. Something bad happened, it happened to both of us. Do you forget who took the beating that night? I know in my heart if he would have swung at me you would've taken him out. You're my hero, San. I can't believe you'd doubt that," Brittany replies.

"I'm not a hero. I'm a nutcase," I mutter and grabbing a bag, I head back downstairs with Brittany and Ang in tow.

XxXxXxXxXxX

It's several hours later that we pull up to the creepiest looking building I've ever seen. It's gated in, of course, and even though the property is nicely landscaped, it's still eerie in a way that tells me the inside is not as serene.

We pull up to the front doors where a woman in a long white lab coat is waiting. She's pretty good looking and honestly looks too young to be a doctor.

"Woah, she's hot," Ang announces.

"Shut up. Wait, you're not gay," I point out and she just laughs.

"I am when I'm you, duh. Watch. Hey girl, how you doin?" she looks over at Brittany, reaching over to touch her leg.

"Hey! Don't hit on my girlfriend," I snap.

"Well one of us should," she shrugs. Sue stops the car and her and Brittany step out to gather my things from the trunk.

"Let's do this," Ang says and I sigh, stepping out of the car so very unwillingly.

"Hi, you must be Santana," the doctor lady approaches me.

"Yeah," I grumble, shaking her hand.

"I'm Doctor West. Is this your family?" she asks as Brittany and Sue gather next to me. I sigh, already annoyed, wondering how many people I'll have to introduce myself to.

"My girlfriend Brittany, yes I'm gay, so let's just get that out and save you tons of paperwork huh? My teacher Ms. Sylvester. And my sister, Angela," I introduce them all to her.

"Brittany, nice to meet you, and Sue I believe we've already spoken. And um…Angela?" she questions, looking at me and not right next to me where Angela's standing.

"Hallucinations," Sue whispers and I fight the urge to hit her. Why does everyone keep saying that?

"Oh, you didn't mention that on the phone. Well, why doesn't everybody come with me? I'll give you the tour, show you your room, and once you're settled Brittany and Sue can get back on the road and you and I can talk in private," she suggests and we all follow her to the entrance.

The lights inside the building are ridiculously bright, and it smells like floor cleaner in every room we go to. We walk through a common area, where there's a TV and some board games with some cheap looking faux leather furniture. She takes us up and down a few corridors where the rooms are, and at the end of each one is a room with blacked out windows and a door labeled 'Isolation'.

Downstairs is a small dining hall, it smells like canned peas and dirty wash rags. There's a few people in there eating, but she tells us I can eat in my room if I feel more comfortable.

My room is small, and while it's built for two people, she tells us the other side of the room is unoccupied at this time. There's no bathroom, because all showers have to be supervised for patients on this floor. I guess that means they already think I'm crazy too.

She tells me to think of things that will help me feel at home and we can address them when we talk later. She says I can have friends send packages or bring me treats from home, but they will be searched by her and the nursing staff before I'm allowed to have them, to make sure there's no drugs or weapons. I can't have a cell phone, but I can have cigarettes and candy if someone brings them to me.

Brittany seems glad about the "privileges" they're giving me, but I can't help but feel as though it's prison. People are only allowed to visit me on certain days, and that can't even happen until I'm here for a while and they diagnose me. When Dr. West says "diagnose", I feel like some kind of outcast with an infectious, incurable disease.

Brittany helps me unpack my clothes while Ang helps herself to my bed and Sue talks to Dr. West.

"Brit, I don't want to be here. Please don't leave me here," I beg as she folds some of my shirts to put away.

"Sanny, this is good for you. They're going to help you," she tries to assure me, but it doesn't help. I feel like a dog being left on the side of a highway that nobody wants anymore.

"Brit, please! I love you. I was doing it for you! Don't leave me here, I'm scared! Please Brit!" I plead, this time unable to control my tears. I drop down to my knees and wrap myself around one of Brittany's legs.

"San it'll be okay. I'll come visit you as soon as you're ready for visitors. Right now you just have to be brave. Just remember how much I love you," Brittany replies, trying to pull me off her leg.

"No! Britty please I'll be a good girlfriend! I'll be a good girlfriend I swear!" I cry, holding on for dear life.

"You are a good girlfriend. You always take care of me. I'm doing this for you, Sanny. I love you," she manages to pry herself free and walks toward the door.

"Brit…please don't go…don't leave me here. I'm not crazy…I'm not crazy," I sob, huddled on the floor.

"Come on, Brittany we have to go. This is what she needs," I hear Sue say, as if she could tell Brittany was getting close to changing her mind.

"Bye Sanny. I'll see you in a few weeks, okay? I love you," I can hear tears in Brittany's voice now too. She shuffles back over to me and leans down, turning me over so she can see my face.

"Be brave," she whispers and leans down, kissing my lips. She pulls away a few seconds later, wiping my tears away with her thumb and stands back up.

"Don't go, Brit…" I whimper, watching as she goes to leave. It's the lowest I've ever felt in my life, laying on the cold laminate floor of this stupid mental hospital, watching the love of my life walk out, thinking that this place is better for me than home with her. She just wipes away a few of her own tears and shoots me a little wave before walking out and closing the door behind her. I force myself up and rush to the window, which is blockaded by rusty metal bars, and stare until I see them back outside with Dr. West, heading toward the car. Brittany's got her face buried in her hands, crying, and Sue's got an arm around her trying to comfort her. Dr. West tells them a bunch of things that I can't hear and Brittany takes one last look at the building before she steps in the car. She sees me right away, staring out, my fists clutching the metal bars to the point of turning my knuckles white, and looks at me like she sees a puppy at the pound who will get put to sleep tomorrow.

That's exactly how I feel.

_**Please be kind. I know this is dark and sad right now. Brittana is still endgame, by the way so don't even worry about that. Keep in mind this story is about violence, severe emotional trauma and mental illness, so if that's not up your alley I just advise that you not read this story. Of course I appreciate all of you who have continued with reading the story and given your kind reviews. I have never been more motivated with this story, so thank you =)**_


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